


The Oath

by OneWhoICouldFollow



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And He Still Knows Everything, Angry Thorin, Angst, Anxious Thorin, Attempt at Humor, Awesome Elrond, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward Thorin, Bathing/Washing, Confused Thorin, Elrond Is Just Epic, Elrond Is Wise, Elrond Knows Everything, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Get it?, Hair Braiding, Heartbreak, How Do I Tag, How Many Of You Read Them I Wonder, Innuendo, Intimacy, Laura Loves These Tags, Loss of Virginity, Lots of Sex, Major Original Character(s), Marriage, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Original Charaters, More sexual tension than you could shake a large cow at, Overprotective Thorin, Protective Thorin, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rivendell, Sadness, Scared Thorin, Sex, Shameless Thorin Worship, So Does Gandalf, Some Humor, Speaks Down, Stubborn Thorin, Swordplay, Tenderness, Thorin Doesn't Like Elves, Thorin Doesn't Like Gandalf When He Speaks Down To Him, Thorin Is Apologetic, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin Likes Elves If They Have Wine, Thorin is Instatiable, Uncle Thorin, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Worried Thorin, betrothal, hahaha, original character death, slow building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 157,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoICouldFollow/pseuds/OneWhoICouldFollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She made an oath to protect him with her life. An oath that was to become increasingly difficult to fulfil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue:

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. This is my first time posting to AO3, so please give me a heads up if I've screwed up the tags/warnings etc. Also it is the first fic I've ever wrote in a second person narrative, as I wanted to try to make the reader feel part of the writing and try something new. Reviews would be much appreciated, and if you don't like the second person narrative I can always change it. This fic is inspired by both The Hobbit book AND the movie, but mainly the movies (with things like Thorin's age). I may also add some parts of my own at any stage. Also, future chapters may contain angst, major character death and sexual content. :)

The bitter wind whistled past your stinging ears and tore at your cape as you raced onwards through the night. Beneath you, your horse Nithoel slowed half a notch as his last remaining strength waned even further. You had been riding hard at break neck speed for almost four hours now, and he was utterly spent - liable to drop at any moment. Normally you wouldn't be so hard on him. You had raised him from a foal and loved him dearly - your greatest friend upon this earth. But this night, speed was of the essence, and the toils of the past weeks had to be ignored along with all weariness of limb.  
  
 _Please don't let it be too late._  
  
You lean forward across Nithoel's neck to cut out a little of the biting wind and to whisper a few words of gentle encouragement into his ear. Despite his utter state of collapse, your words spur him on to regain the little pace he'd lost, and his hooves beat out an ever faster rhythm in the darkness, thundering against hard earth as he gives you everything he has left.  
  
The feeling of near hysterical panic you had been feeling since dawn escalates with every swiftly passing furlong, and your heart hammers behind your ribcage in a rhythm almost as swift as Nithoel's hooves.  
  
Just as your feelings of nervousness were reaching their crescendo, the full moon breaks through the dense blanket of cloud and illuminates the highest peaks of the Blue Mountains and their startling proximity - your proximity to _his_ domain - and you can't help the cry of relief that falls readily from your lips at the familiar sight.  
  
 _At last._  
  
 _Almost there._  
  
With a trained eye, you study the silhouetted landscape carefully in the silver light and guide Nithoel into a more South Westerly direction, keeping the spur of mountains that broke away from the main range to your right, and instead making your way towards the lush valley nestled secretly at their base.  
  
You breathe another small sigh of relief as the biting wind eases as soon as you pass the outcropping shoulder of solid rock, and you slacken the pace slightly as the harsh tundra suddenly gives way to soft grass and a small forest of evergreen trees. Winding your way through the pines with care was slow going, and your feelings of panic soon begin to resurface again in their cloying darkness, only to subside when you finally break through the last copse of dense trees and find yourself in a wide moonlit clearing at the foot of the largest peak of the Blue Mountains.  
  
Nithoel's hooves hit stone as they find a paved pathway snaking its way through the darkness towards the foot of the mountain, and the sudden noise makes you jump after hours of nothing to break the silence but the roar of the harsh northerly wind. Guiding your mount forwards, you begin to follow the pathway cautiously, waiting for them to notice you.  
  
It doesn't take long.  
  
Before you have even come within sight of the huge stone doors carved into the mountainside, a host of cries suddenly surround you, shattering the night air and scattering a flock of roosting birds who take to the air, squawking in fright.  
  
"Halt there, stranger! You shall go no further until you tell us who you are and what your purpose is here!"  
  
You tug gently on the reins to bring Nithoel to a standstill, and he gladly obeys, his hot breath coming in ragged huffs and his head slumped in exhaustion.  
  
Your eyes quickly scan the clearing for any sign of the watchmen, narrowing cautiously beneath your hood as two dwarves step out of the darkness of the trees, swords raised. Seconds later, four more join them, surrounding you and preventing any thought of escape.  
  
A stout and ferocious looking dwarf with a bald head and black, bushy beard steps forward holding a torch aloft in his free hand - throwing his many tattoo's into sharp relief. "Speak, stranger! What is your purpose in the Ered Luin!?"  
  
You sigh, feigning off the urge to roll your eyes. They, more than many, had every right to be distrustful of strangers. And so they should be. Not being cautious could easily get you killed in Middle Earth. A lesson they had bitterly learned over the ages.  
  
Holding up your hands in a gesture of peace and cooperation, you carefully dismount, giving Nithoel a worried pat before reaching for your hood and gently letting it fall back.  
  
A series of gasps, exclamations (and to your amusement) the odd curse, issue from the surrounding dwarves and you have to remember once again not to give in to the urge to roll your eyes. The fearsome looking dwarf before you relaxes his stance, but only slightly, and you could tell he still very much regarded you as a threat.  
  
Good. You liked him already.  
  
His voice, however was much softer when he finally gathered himself together to speak again. "My lady! How came you to be here? Have you lost your way? These parts are wild and dangerous ... And it is not safe to wander alone.."  
  
You step forward towards him slowly, a small, amused smile playing about your lips. "Truer words have never been spoken, Master Dwarf. However, I am in less danger than most, and I am certainly not lost." You take a deep breath before carrying on, "I came seeking the Grey Wizard. He told me that he was planning to visit, and I have urgent matters I would discuss with him - I am afraid it can not wait."  
  
The dwarves' eyes widen at your words and the tattooed warrior before you studies you more intently, weighing up every conceivable threat. You refuse to be cowed by the scrutiny and meet his eyes unafraid, noting as you do that he is larger than most of his kind, standing almost at the same height as you yourself. After a few moments of deliberation, you can see in his eyes as he finally relents and reaches his decision.  
  
"Then it seems fate has been kind to you, Lady. For I can tell you that the Grey Wizard did indeed arrive in haste to speak with our leader only this very evening." He gestures to the sword hung at your side. "However, I can not allow you to enter our halls thus armed. But if you will surrender your weapons and consent to an escort, I would gladly send word to the Wizard that you wish to speak with him."  
  
You incline your head towards the tattooed dwarf and begin disarming at once. "Of course. You have my thanks."  
  
Your fingers nimbly unbuckle your sword belt and you pull it over your shoulder before quickly reaching inside your boots for your hunting knives. Once these were carefully handed over, you loosen the small axe in your belt and add it to the growing pile in the dwarf's arms, unable to help the small grin at his dumbfounded but slightly impressed expression as he hands the small pile of armaments to the short red-bearded dwarf beside him.  
  
"Who _are_ you?"  
  
Your voice softens with sincerity as your eyes return to his. "A friend."  
  
The dwarf gives you a toothy smile which only serves to make him look more ferocious. "Hmph..That remains to be seen. However, I am Dwalin. Head of the guard." He gestures towards Nithoel, sweating heavily and trembling beside you. "Your horse looks to be in need of some attention. If it pleases you, allow us to take him to our stables where we can perhaps ease his discomfort."  
  
Relief and warmth surges through you, and you find yourself liking this fearsome looking dwarf more with every passing minute. You return his smile, your words heavy with emotion and concern for your horse. "We rode hard and long and in great haste to get here so quickly. I thank you for your hospitality and welcome it gladly, for he is very dear to me."  
  
"Then, we will treat him with great care, lady." He bows low before uttering a short, guttural command in his native tongue. The red-bearded dwarf steps forward from the guard, adjusting your small pile of weapons into one muscled arm and gesturing for the reigns. "Allow me, my lady."  
  
You nod gratefully, giving Nithoel a quick scratch behind the ear and whispering a quiet word of comfort to him before relinquishing the reigns over to the dwarf. "Thank you."  
  
"I will look after him, never fear." He bows swiftly before leading the exhausted animal back towards the shadows of the trees and out of sight. You watch in concern for your Nithoel for a moment, before Dwalin clears his throat to get your attention. "If you would please follow me, then."  
  
Accompanied by your guard of honour - or caution - you follow as Dwalin leads you along the remainder of the stone pathway, towards the great doors carved into the base of the mountain. He stops as he reaches them and shouts another command into the darkness. A split second of silence follows before a loud grinding and grating noise instantly shatters the peaceful glade as the doors begin to move inwards on some great, invisible mechanism you couldn't ever hope to understand, revealing the dimly lit hall within.  
  
Dwalin motions for you to follow and you step in behind him as he leads you over the threshold, and the nerves that had been held at bay momentarily, bursting forth again, although this time for an entirely different reason.  
  
The instant you enter the entrance hall, the feet thick stone doors begin closing slowly behind you until they at last grind to a halt with a thundering boom of finality.  
  
 _No turning back now._  
  
More dwarves of the guard pour from the dark recesses of the hall to surround you, their expressions just as shocked and curious as those of their kin as they first take in your appearance. You ignore them, your attention instead focused on Dwalin as he turns back to you. "And who should I tell the Wizard is here to see him?"  
  
You give him your name and he considers it for a moment before turning  to one of the new arrivals and having a hurried conversation with him. The younger looking dwarf nods once and quickly rushes off down a side passage as quickly as his short legs could carry him.  
  
"I have sent forth a message to the Grey Wizard, telling him of your arrival."  
  
You incline your head once more in gratitude. "Thank you."  
  
An awkward silence descends as you wait, and to avoid the curious glances being thrown your way, you decide to pass the time by taking in your surroundings instead. Now that your eyes had finally adjusted to the dim lighting inside the entrance hall, you could begin to fully appreciate the skill, beauty and unequalled craftsmanship of the dwarves.  
  
The walls and pillars of the entrance-way were cut out of the very mountain itself, as was the dwarves want for their halls. But what you admired the most was that they had polished the granite until it was completely smooth and shone like marble - the rich blue veins of colour that gave these mountains their name, glistened through the black rock in tiny rivers of lightning that glittered and danced in the flickering flames of the torches.  
  
Strange isometric patterns, intermingled with the Angerthas runes of Durin's race, decorated each carved pillar, making the hall both at once beautiful and imposing. You allow yourself a wry smile at the thought of it always being the littlest people that built the largest and grandest things before you are distracted by a sudden commotion at the far end of the hall.  
  
An old man in a large, bent hat far too big for him had burst through the door and was hastening towards you, his staff clattering on the smooth, polished floor with every long stride. His dirty, travel-worn, grey robes whipped about him as he hurried along at a pace that belied his immense age.  
  
 _Thank the gods. He's alone. Maybe this won't be as bad as first feared._  
  
Your dwarven guard quickly stands aside as Gandalf breathlessly comes to a stop before you and bends swiftly to kiss your hand. "My lady! ...What a pleasant surprise!"  
  
You smile at the old man, dipping your head in a show of respect. "Mithrandir. Glad am I to find you here. I thought I may have come too late."  
  
Gandalf returns the smile, his eyes bright and twinkling beneath the huge brim of his hat. "Indeed, no. Luckily, I had other matters that required my attention before I came here, and arrived only a short while before yourself." He looks at you inquisitively. "I trust you have news?"  
  
You nod quickly and without ceremony or pause, you launch into a rapid stream of Elvish, ignoring the renewed looks of shock, curiosity and wonder from the surrounding dwarves when they hear the foreign words falling easily from your lips. "Mithrandir. As you requested, my men and I travelled north towards the Downs. For many days we travelled and encountered nothing - not even a sign or whisper of anything unusual. I was suddenly anxious to return south to my patrol, fearing something had gone amiss. We were about to turn back when we encountered a large orc pack and several warg riders camped in the north of the hills. We surprised them and quickly eliminated most, but two escaped us. We followed their trail for three days until we came upon the ruins of Fornost. There we slain one, but the other could not be found. After spending the entire day searching for the trail, my need to return south had become desperate. Two days ago at last we returned to the borders of the Shire. No trace could we find of any danger lurking in those parts. Even so, I left my men patrolling the borders and hastened here to bring you these strange tidings. Although I suspect they will be less strange to you." You glance up at the old man, a sharp glint in your eye. "You were the one that suggested we go to the Downs, after all ..... It's almost like you knew they would be there."  
  
The old man at least has the decency to look slightly guilty, but the expression is short lived and he suddenly frowns heavily, processing this new information as though he regretted to have had it confirmed. "You and your men have been of great service and you have my thanks. But this news is troubling indeed. Very troubling...." He breaks off, mumbling under his breath, his brow creased with worry. You watch the inner turmoil rage behind his eyes for a moment as his mind is lost to things only a wizard could know.  
  
You wait patiently, familiar enough now with the old man that you were practically all too accustomed to his silences, but still, you had questions of your own that needed answering and they would not wait forever.  
  
Before you can interrupt his thoughts, he glances back up at you. "Did you hear aught of their speech?"  
  
You nod, frowning in return at the stangeness of the question and the meaning behind it. "Their speech was of Gundabad, Mithrandir ... Hence my desperation to return to my patrol of Ered Luin and to bring you these tidings. Long has it been since any of their kind were seen in these parts, and this troubles me greatly."  
  
The old wizard raises a brow questioningly, not quite meeting your eyes. "What is it that troubles you so?"  
  
You take a step closer to him, your voice lowered despite the surrounding dwarves having no knowledge of your foreign tongue. "Before we took the orcs by surprise, I scouted their camp to view their numbers. I heard their conversation, Mithrandir. They spoke of someone I believed had died long ago. Who many _here_ believe had died long ago. You _know_ of whom I speak. I see it in your eyes."  
  
You reach out to grasp the old man's arm, forcing him to look at you. "But not only this... For weeks now, my thoughts have been filled with the darkest visions - A mountain of naught but flames and ash - of green fields laid to waste by the wrath of a dragon. Every night, I wake from my slumber, still able to hear the screams, the stench of death like a heavy shroud, burning at my throat."  
  
A door slams somewhere across the hall and a multitude of hurried footsteps approach, but you ignore them as you gaze intently into the wizards eyes, seeking your own truth and finding it in the pale depths of the old man's face. Your heart sinks inside you like molten lead, and you blink back the wave of emotion tearing at your insides like ice. "It _is_ as I feared most, then? He _is_ planning to return to Erebor?"  
  
Gandalf remains silent, but his eyes dull with unspoken pity as he looks upon you, giving you all the answer you need. You release your grip on the old man's arm as though burned and shake your head in disbelief - the full scale of the situation crashing down upon your shoulders with the weight of the entire mountain. "Mithrandir ....You must stop him....This is folly .... My Lord Thorin would be most wise to not leave his halls."  
  
"Gandalf?"  
  
Your eyes quickly fall to the regal figure now stepping up to Gandalf's side. A proud face gazes back, framed by dark waves of raven hair - raven hair that was now streaked with tiny rivers of silver and sadness. Ageless, piercing blue eyes widen as they first take in your appearance, and then turn confused and questioning as his gaze comes to rest upon your face. As you meet his eyes a fresh wave of pain pierces your heart like a Morgul blade, and you bow to your knees before him, the enormity of it all making you forget your surroundings for a moment.

"My Lord Thorin."  
  
The Elvish speech now dead on your tongue, it's quickly replaced by its native as you lift your panic filled eyes back up to the old wizard standing tall before you, his face still a mask of barely hidden sorrow and regret. "Gandalf... You know the oath I took. The oath I have spent fulfilling every day since I reached adulthood." Your gaze flicks back to the confused blue of the one you were honour bound to serve, and your voice and nerve finally breaks. "I swore to protect him! I have spent the last sixty years protecting him, and now you would have him leave the safety of his halls and journey into the peril that awaits!? What madness is this!?"  
  
The old man shakes his head forlornly and sighs, "A necessary madness, dear one."  
  
He reaches out to help you off the ground, but stronger arms beat him to it, lifting you gently by the shoulders and bringing you back to your feet. A voice as rich as the moutain itself, as warm as sun-baked earth sounds from your side;  
  
"Gandalf? ... What in Durin's name is going on?!"


	2. Bonds Forged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonds forged in grief will keep us bound together until all else turns to dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this world is based mainly upon the movie (with things such as Thorin's age and certain events), with a small part referenced from the books and others entirely from my own imagination. Also, I always wondered what kind of father Thorin would have been, so I played around with that a little in this chapter.

  
_It was the screams that you would always remember most. Even more so than the acidic and bitter smell of the burning fumes that rose from within the great gates and that had clung to your skin for days - Or the thunderous roar that made the whole mountain quake to its very foundations and had sent the crows screeching off in a billowing black cloud for miles around._  
  
 _No, it would always be the screams that sought to overwhelm you each night, springing unbidden from the dark recesses of your mind to invade even the briefest of sleep._  
  
* * * * *  
  
Business was booming in Dale. The bustling streets were filled with laughter, colour and endless curiosities for those eager to explore. Your eyes were wide, shifting from one thing to the next in a constant awe-struck wonder. You tug lightly on your father's hand and point out the stalls on the market place which were filled with all manner of beautiful things - from fine hand crafted jewellery, to rolls upon rolls of shimmering silk cloths and lace.  
  
He smiles fondly at your expression and squeezes your hand, leading you onwards through the packed streets and beyond the market place, towards the outskirts of town. Here could be found the traders yards, all filled with large thatched warehouses, where the men were hard at work loading the first of the year's harvest into the great wagons - most of them already harnessed with teams of powerful looking heavy horses.  
  
By the look of the quantity and quality of the produce already loaded, it seemed that it was going to be a very good and profitable year for Dale's farmers and merchants. The fine weather intermingled with the odd night of warm, sweet rain had swelled the crops to record size, and you had overheard your father talking with one of his farmers that very morning about how there would be store enough to see both the City and the Mountain through even the harshest of winters and mostly likely, right into next spring. They had talked excitedly over how the King would reward them all richly - maybe even richly enough that he would send some of his best smiths down to finish the gilding on the town hall. Father had seemed genuinely happy for the first time in an age - almost as cheerful as he had been when mother was alive.  
  
He had been so happy in fact, that he had finally agreed to take you to the Mountain with him for the very first time.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ever since you had come to live in Dale at the age of three, you had been strangely fascinated by the dwarves of Erebor. You had seen many dwarves before, of course. Your father was a well travelled and respected merchant, and Bree was the trading centre of the North - peoples of all kinds often passed through its gates and drank the night away in the Prancing Pony. But these dwarves were different. Instead of the darkly dressed, silent and surly looking traders you had been used to, here the dwarves wore bright colours and even brighter jewellery, and were quick to laugh and sing.  
  
Your first trip into the renowned and famous market had been one of the most memorable of your life, for here it was that you had first discovered dwarf women. You had been glancing across the square at a large stall filled with the most wonderful toys you had ever seen in your life, when the dwarf merchant had moved out from behind it and you had realised they were wearing a dress. Instantly intrigued you had bounded up to her and innocently demanded to know why she had a beard.  
  
Aghast, and with a face like beetroot, your new nanny had rushed forward and had attempted to drag you away whilst mumbling a string of apologies to the immensely amused looking dwarf woman. But you had steadfastly refused to go until you had the answers to your questions, and what had followed had been a very enjoyable afternoon spent in the company of the very same dwarf woman (her name you soon learned was Asvi), who had insisted on sitting you down beside her at the stall to sip fruit teas whilst your guardian had finished running the rest of her errands. She had told you many tales of dwarven society and of the King under the Mountain that day, which had only served to fascinate you even more. Going home that evening wearing a pretty dwarven broach given to you by your new friend, and hand crafted with turquoise and black agate, you regaled your father with all that you had learned - extracting a firm promise from him that he would take you to the Mountain with him some day.  
  
It was this very promise which he was now finally fulfilling, and you bounce impatiently on the balls of your tiny feet as he stops beside a grain wagon to speak to one of the loaders. "Are we almost ready to leave? The King is expecting us, and I would not want to keep him waiting much longer."  
  
The man heaves the heavy sack of seed he was carrying on to the wagon and pulls a dirty handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his sweat-slick brow. "That's the last of it, Sir."  
  
"Excellent! Well, with a bit of luck then, we'll be celebrating our fortune with a barrel of mead by sundown!"  
  
The rest of the loaders cheer in unison as your father picks you up and places you in the wagon. "I'll take this one, Erik. You and the men follow behind with the rest."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Your father jumps up into the wagon beside you and takes the reigns, spurring the team of horses into action and guiding them out of the loading yard and into the bright cobbled street. You make your way with care through the busy roads until you finally break free of the throngs of people and exit the great city gates. Before you, a large plain of lush grass spanned all the way from the city and right to the foot of the mountain itself - a wide, white causeway winding north, its paved stone gleaming in the sun and throwing a stark contrast to the vivid green of the fields. Your excitement increases as you begin to traverse the road, and you stand in your seat to get a better look at your destination, the wind tussling your long hair as your shining eyes follow the causeway all the way past the great sentinel statues and to the stone gates of Erebor. Your father grins at your enthusiasm and snaps the reigns, quickening the pace. "Don't worry, little one. We'll be there before you know it!"  
  
You reluctantly tear your eyes away from the Mountain for a moment to look back at him. "Will I really see the King, Papa!?"  
  
He nods, his eyes twinkling. "Of course you will see the King. He will want to inspect the goods, as he always does. But afterwards, you must promise to go with your friend while I discuss business with him, alright?"  
  
You smile at him and nod eagerly. "Yes, Papa. Asvi already said she would make me some boots for when I visit her! Just like the ones she wears! And then she's going to teach me how to thread beads and make bracelets!"  
  
"Did she really? Well I'm sure you will have a very busy afternoon, then!" He shakes his head in quiet wonderment. "Who'd have thought... My daughter. Running wild with the dwarves.... If only your mother could have seen.." He breaks off, his face falling slightly for a moment before he notices your own expression sinking. He quickly smiles again for your benefit, softer than before. "I'm glad you have found yourself a friend, my love. Dwarf or not, she will be good for you. And you need some female company when all you're stuck with is your old Papa all of the time."  
  
You move to sit back next to him and throw your tiny arms around his waist, pressing your face into his arm. "But I like being stuck with you, Papa."  
  
He kisses the top of your head at the sentiment and gives you a small squeeze. You snuggle happily into his side and squint as a sudden hot gust of wind sends the dust from the road whirling into the air in small, angry cyclones.  
  
Your father wraps an arm around you, shielding his own eyes as he snaps the reigns again, desperate to get out of the small dust storm. "Blasted wind. I wonder where that has sprung up from? And did you hear that? Sounded like a thunderstorm, it did. I hope we're not going to get soaked. The King won't appreciate wet grain."  
  
You nod absentmindedly, only half listening as you squint around at the sky. Another blast of dry, parched air bends the pines that blanketed the vast mountainside, making them creak and crack with the sheer force of it. "I don't think there is a thunderstorm, Papa. There aren't any clouds."  
  
Another low rumble echoes across the plain and you feel your father stiffen beside you as he pulls on the reigns to bring the wagon to a standstill. "Papa? What's wrong?" He doesn't answer, but instead studies the surrounding landscape with a wary gaze.  
  
"Papa?"  
  
The wind pulls at your hair, sending it into a mass of wild tangles, and everything falls silent except the moan of the wind and the creaking of the pines under the sun. Another roar fills the lush valley and you frown, trying to make sense of it as it echoes from the mountainside and rolls over the land in a wave of cold fury, to send shivers down your spine. A sudden blare of the city horns sounds behind you, and your father's face blanches. "We need to get out of here...." With a quick motion he spurs the team of horses back into action, driving them onwards towards the Mountain with all the speed they could muster. Something on your right catches your attention and you gasp as you turn your gaze back to the trees. A ball of white hot fire spreads quickly through the forest like instant death, consuming every living thing in its path. You grasp your father's arm and cry out, drawing his attention to it.  
  
His eyes widen in disbelief. "May the gods protect us."  
  
A thunderous roar - this time so very much closer - bellows out across the sky, and you turn fearfully in your seat as another alarm sounds from within the city behind you. A dark shadow engulfs the north side of Dale and the sudden sound of distance screams is carried to you on the gale. A river of molten lava streams from the black sky, incinerating both wood and stone on contact - and the horns that had only moments ago blared so loudly are instantly made silent as the watchman's tower is sent tumbling into the street below in a chaotic pile of rubble that crushed everyone below.  
  
Stream after stream of liquid fire engulfs the white stone and the cacophony of screams grows ever louder as the monstrous shadow advances eastwards towards the mountain, blocking out the sun. Your father cracks the reigns again in panic, desperately trying to outrun the oncoming apparition, but to no avail. The darkness quickly surrounds you like a rush of night and a searing heat emanates from it, burning at your skin. A flash of blinding light swirls around you and you hear the horses scream with fright before the entire world spins and tilts at a crazy angle, and you are thrown into the air with a cry of confusion.  
  
A sickening impact drives all the air from your lungs, sending a shooting pain up your spine and down your legs. A heavy blackness threatens to take you and you surrender to it gladly, slipping deep into unconsciousness accompanied by a roar that shook the very foundations of the earth itself.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Papa..."  
  
You whimper softly in pain as you are reluctantly brought back to sharp reality of consciousness. An acidic burn at your throat soon makes itself known through your haziness and you clutch at your shirt collar, struggling to breathe. Panicking at the sudden lack of oxygen you open your eyes to discover that you're lying on scorched and blackened earth, poisonous billows of black smoke surrounding you with their cloying presence and rending you blinder than the stinging tears that filled your eyes. Screams of terror, mingled with wails of utter despair fill the air and your sluggish brain whirls in confusion as you try to make sense of it all. Whimpering pitifully again, you slowly push yourself to your feet, the pebbles and bits of sharp stone that had been mercilessly digging into your flesh falling away to reveal jagged and bleeding cuts through ragged holes in you shirt and breeches. "Papa?"  
  
You sway unsteadily on the spot, trying your hardest not to vomit as you gingerly test for further injury and then wince as you cautiously limp forward into the semi-darkness, squinting around for any sign of the wagon. "Papa!?!"  
  
A weak spluttering sound comes from somewhere to your left, barely audible above the invisible shouts and heavy footfalls around you and  making your way slowly towards it, your heart begins pounding in dread of what you may find. "Papa?"  
  
A dark hunk of shape amidst the baking earth breaks through the smog and into view, and as you step closer you can just make out the upturned wreckage of the grain wagon, its contents spilled haphazardly across the charred grass next to the causeway. Another low sound comes from beneath it and you rush forward with a cry, now ignoring the pain in your legs as you throw yourself to the ground and pull desperately at the pile of sacks spilling over from the side of the cart.  
  
A low groan sounds from beneath you and you quickly pull the last sacks away to reveal your father's bloodied face and torso. You gasp and choke back an anguished sob at the sight, eyes roaming over your father's broad chest to where the edge of the wagon rested across his lower abdomen, mercilessly trapping the rest of his body beneath its immense weight. Even despite your tender years, you could still grasp the seriousness of the situation and the panic fills your chest like ice, threatening to overwhelm you. You gaze around in desperation, your voice breaking as you call into the smoke for help.  
  
It's your name barely mumbled that brings your terrified gaze back to your father's face as he slowly opens his eyes to look at you.  
  
"Papa!"  
  
He smiles softly in recognition and shakily lifts a hand to rest against your cheek, his voice little more than a murmur as he tries to swipe away the tears leaving tiny pink rivers in the soot on your face. "Little one.... Are..... Are you hurt?"  
  
You shake your head, clutching desperately to his coat, "No, Papa."  
  
He smiles again, his hand weakly falling to your shoulder. "Good.... Now... you must.....must listen to me, understand?"  
  
You nod, choking back the renewed sobs waiting to burst forth from your chest.  
  
He reaches slowly into an inner pocket of his coat, his fingers clumsy and fumbling as he draws out a leather pouch from within his robes and gestures for you to take it. Your small fingers close around the soft buck-skin, and realisation hits you full force as you hear the tinkle of coins from inside.  
  
Your father smiles weakly. "You have to... leave me now, my love - No, listen!" He breaks off your small noise of protest with a stern glance. "I do... do not have much time left. My body is broken beyond repair..... You must do this last thing for me... Go to...Go back to the City. ... Send word to...to your uncle. He must care for you now... Here..." He carefully slides his silver and sapphire ring from his middle finger. "Take this too... He will know you by it..."  
   
He presses the ring into your hand as you shake your head indignantly, the tears falling freely down your face now. "No, Papa.... I won't leave you! I can get help!" You lift your head again and call into the fumes, desperately praying for someone - anyone to hear your plea, but again you are only answered by distant screams.  
  
"There is no help for me now, child. I'm sorry .... I have failed you."  
  
He reaches out to you, and you finally give in to your grief as you bury your face into his neck. He wraps a weak arm around you with all the strength he can muster, holding you close one last time.  
  
"I love you, Papa."  
  
"As I love you, little one. But now.... you have to let me go."  
  
Heavy footfalls from somewhere close-by barely register through the depth of your despair as you cling to him, now completely unaware of and uninterested in your surroundings.  
  
"What are you doing, child!? You have to ru-"  
  
The sudden rich, authoritative voice makes you jump and you look up quickly to see the shadowy figure of a dwarf making his way towards you through the dense fog of smoke. He suddenly stops short when he sees the prone figure of your father lying on the ground, and as he moves closer you can see the realisation and understanding crossing his face.  
  
"Please! ... Help us!"  
  
The dwarf instantly rushes forward and drops to his knees beside you, assessing both the wreckage and your father's injuries quickly. Your heart pounds with a dull hope as you clutch tighter at his coat, your gaze flicking between the stranger and your father  - But his tear filled eyes were no longer on your face and instead gazing upon that of the dwarf. A look of understanding passes between them as their eyes meet, and the small flutter of hope you had felt just moments ago at his arrival, instantly dies within you. Your father gestures for him to come closer, his voice much weaker now as the last of his life force ebbs swiftly away. "Lord Thorin.... I beg of you... Take her.... Don't let her see.....Please...." He coughs thickly, his tongue slick with blood you hadn't noticed before. "Please ... Protect her...... She must get ... get to Bree...."  
  
A moment of silence descends, the dwarf's piercing blue eyes gazing into the desperate grey of the other man as he thinks it through. The arm holding you close slackens and a flash of panic crosses your father's face, but it is short lived when a much stronger and thicker arm replaces it, encircling your waist and pulling you gently out of the other's embrace. The dwarf nods at your father, his expression now one of conviction. "You have my word."  
   
Your father's pale eyes dull despite their watery sheen and he chokes out through a mouthful of blood. "Thank you .. My Lord.."  
  
His gaze turns to you, "Stay with Prince ... Prince Thorin, my love. He will ... look after you."  
  
The arm tightens around your waist and your futile grip on your father is broken as you are hoisted unceremoniously into the air. Your cry out in protest, desperately reaching back towards the broken man on the ground. "Papa!! Noooo!!!"  
  
His eyes gaze hungrily on your face for a moment and then he smiles softly and sadly. "Go now."  
  
The strong arms enveloping you turn you in their grip until you are held tightly against a broad, muscled shoulder. The dwarf's rich voice sounds softly and sympathetically in your ear. "Come, child. We must leave." Without a moment's pause he sets off at a brisk pace, his iron footfalls pounding the baked earth and jostling you against him. You gaze over his shoulder with wide eyes upon the face of your father until the very last moment when the smoke finally closes in and obscures him from view.  
  
"Papa!!"  
  
A heart wrenching sob breaks loose from the deepest recesses of your heart and you bury your face into the dwarf's raven hair, your small hands clutching tightly at the royal blue velvet of his shoulder as your whole world crashes down around you.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was long after nightfall when the dwarf finally stopped. On and on he had ran through once green fields, now blackened and dead, his ragged breathing filling your ears as you had cried yourself out against him. His arms had tightened around you, but he had made no attempt to quieten you, leaving you alone with your grief until you were utterly spent. Now you slumbered fitfully against his neck as he at lasts breaks free of the seemingly endless clouds of smoke and slows to take a deep and grateful breath of sweet night air. The sound of running water and the change of pace stirs you from your uncomfortable nap, and you rub at your eyes as you emerge from beneath his hair and squint around for the source of the noise.  
  
A wide but shallow river twists and turns away on your left, passing by a small forest of evergreen trees, within which sparkled a multitude of glowing lights. Shadowy figures moved between the tightly packed trunks, and sounds of grief beyond count rose up like the despairing howl of a winter breeze to disappear into the night. The dwarf's body stiffens against your own and his hold on you becomes painfully tight as he wearily makes his way towards the riverbank and the shimmering lights of the forest.  
  
Other shadowy figures heading in the same direction pass you by, each with the same defeated and disbelieving demeanour as the one who held you, but they ignore you as firmly as you ignore them, each of them lost instead to the laments echoing around the glen.  
  
Finally spent it seems, your dwarf comes to a standstill on the riverbank, starting when a lilting voice cries out to him through the darkness.  
  
"Thorin!"  
  
You follow the dwarf's gaze and watch as a very young looking dwarf female picks her way towards you through the undergrowth, carrying a burning torch which she holds aloft to light her way. The similarity between the two in both looks and dress was so striking you could only assume they must be close kin.  
  
Thorin takes a deep breath of relief at the sight of her, but squares his shoulders, displaying no signs of weariness or weakness in the presence of the other dwarf. "Dis. Where are the others? Is everyone safe?"  
  
She gestures over her shoulder towards the forest. "They're all back there. And we're all safe. Though we were starting to get a little worried about you!"  
  
Thorin sighs, hitching you onto his hip so as to be able to pull the young female into a one armed hug and kiss her brow. "Forgive me, my dear. I was waylaid."  
  
The girl frowns questioningly and stands on tiptoes to peer at you curiously over Thorin's arm. "And who might this be?"  
  
Thorin reaches up a hand to gently brush the hair back from your face, affording her a better view. "I found her by the road, clinging to her dying father. I could not leave her."  
  
Dis' face falls easily into a mask of sympathy. "Well of course you couldn't! Poor babe." She reaches out to touch your cheek gently and you recoil from the contact, shyly burying your face back into Thorin's shoulder and making her smile momentarily. "Well aren't you just precious?"  
  
The smile dies on her lips and she sighs as she looks back up to Thorin. "The others are waiting for you, brother. There is much to talk about and grandfather is inconsolable."  
  
Thorin nods wearily. "Tell them I will be with them shortly."  
  
She nods and reaches out for you. "Let me take her?"  
  
Thorin shakes his head, ignoring her outstretched arms and refusing to relinquish his hold on you. Instead he pulls you all the closer, as though having you against him would act as a barrier or shield against the abject misery that not only rose up from the surrounding forest, but also that which was waiting to burst forth in a tidal wave of hurt from deep within his chest. "I will tend to the child. She has some deep looking cuts that require some attention."  
  
Dis raises a questioning brow, but makes no comment on her big brother's behaviour. "Here. Take this, then." She hands him the torch, her eyes lingering on Thorin's face for a moment, as he gazes back at her broodingly. After a moment she sighs again and shrugs, turning away and disappearing back towards the red glow of fire within the trees. Thorin watches her out of sight before spearing the torch into the soft soil of the riverbank and sinking down to his knees beside it. The tension and pretence of the last few moments vanishes and he slumps forward, his emotions finally getting the better of him as his chest begins to quake with silent sobs. The realisation that this proud and strong looking dwarf could show any such display of emotion was enough to momentarily distract you from your own feelings of loss, and you pull back to look at his face properly for the very first time.  
  
Striking blue eyes gaze hopelessly back through the night towards a Mountain all aflame, and the weight of sadness and despair in his face was enough to take your breath. Utter misery poured freely from him now, seeping from his very soul into something tangible that amplified and magnified your own grief until the pain of it was beyond bearable. Fresh tears fill your own eyes and before you can stop yourself you reach out hesitantly to touch his face, wanting both to comfort and be comforted. He flinches a little at the contact, his wet eyes quickly flicking to yours in surprise. Suddenly remembering himself, he wipes the back of a large hand across his face and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, little one."  
  
Blinking back tears, you reach out for him, wrapping your tiny arms tight around his neck and hugging for all you are worth. He chokes out a strangled and watery laugh through his sadness and rubs gently at your back, all the while taking deep breaths in an attempt to get himself back under control. "My sister was right about you, it seems." He pulls back slightly to give you a wan smile. "Precious indeed."  
  
Sighing and wiping his eyes again, he resolutely turns his gaze away from the Mountain and clears his throat, adopting a more business-like expression. "Now then .... let me take a look at you." He lifts you gently and sits you across his lap instead, his large fingers awkwardly removing your soft leather boots so he can better inspect your various injuries by the flickering light of the torch. You make no protest, and watch him in silence as he finishes looking you over and tuts in disgust. Pulling the hem of his shirt from his breeches, he tears the soft cloth into strips of various sizes and soaks a couple of them in the cool waters of the river. "This may hurt a little, dear one. But please try to hold still."  
  
He places one strip of cold, wet cloth on to the deep gash on your knee and you flinch at the stinging pain shooting up your leg. Your tiny hands clench into fists, but you refuse to let any sound escape you. He pauses for a moment, gazing at you in concern before beginning to slowly clean the wound, his hands gentle despite their size and familiarity with rougher tasks. He works in silence for a while, cleaning each wound carefully and leaving a small pile of blood soaked cloth beside him. Once finished with your legs, he rinses out the cloths and begins his ministrations on the injuries to your arms, his jaw clenched with some hidden turmoil and his eyes constantly flicking up to meet yours as you gaze silently back at him. "You are very brave ....What is your name, dear one?"  
  
You answer him quietly, your voice cracked from crying and lack of use. He smiles softly and nods. "Such a lovely name .. And how old are you?"  
  
"Six."  
  
He chooses his words carefully before he speaks again, his voice soft. "I am sorry for your loss, little one. Your father was a good man and I often spoke with him when he visited on business - But I never knew he had a daughter."  
  
You choke back a small sob at the mention of your father. "He... I ... I made Papa promise.....Promise to take me to the M - Mountain someday. I wanted to see the King.... And Asvi. Today was the first time he would let me come with him..."  
  
Thorin pauses in his bandaging of your upper arm and gazes at you questioningly. "Asvi?"  
  
You nod glumly. "She's my friend."  
  
"I see.... And where is your mother?"  
  
"She died before Papa brought us to live in Dale."  
  
Thorin ties the knot off in the bandage and rubs your shoulder sympathetically. "I am sorry. I too know what it is to lose a mother. And now you have lost your father, also. Life has been very cruel to you child, and I grieve for it." He sighs softly, gazing out into the darkness. "Do you have any family at all? Your father mentioned Bree?"  
  
You nod, shivering slightly in the night air. "My Uncle. He stays at Bree a lot. Papa said I have to go to him now, but I don't know how..."  
  
Feeling your trembles, Thorin quickly places your boots back on to your feet and pulls you close again, wrapping his mantle completely around you and enveloping you in a protective cocoon of soft velvet and fur. "Well, your wounds are clean for now, but we'll have to find some herbs to dress them with before long ....." He brushes your hair back from your brow as you huddle against him for warmth. "I give you my word little one ... That I will take you to Bree and deliver you to your uncle."  
  
Comforted, you reach out for one of his long braids and twine it in little fingers as you settle against him and close your eyes. You sigh softly as the warmth begins to seep back into your body, and suddenly exhausted you slip into a restless sleep.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Not too long afterwards you are reluctantly brought awake again by the sound of raised voices. You yawn softly and snuggle deeper into the strong arms holding you. Close by a fire crackled, its soothing heat spreading through you and easing your aching and bruised body. You frown in annoyance as the voices continue their argument, preventing you from drifting back to sleep. Resigned to staying awake, you decide to listen instead.  
  
Thorin's deep and weary voice sounds somewhere from over the top of your head and vibrates through his chest - "I sent back everyone I could find... It seems many got out in time, but the losses are still within the thousands..... With others still pouring in from the surrounding countryside, we will not know the true extent until tomorrow.."  
  
"So what do we do now?"  
  
"We need to think about where to find provision and shelter for as many as eight thousand."  
  
"Some are talking of the Iron Hills."  
  
Thorin sighs, his chest expanding beneath your head "Nain can not afford to keep us all, nor does he have the room. I suppose those with children, the elderly and the injured must and will go to there. We can ask that much at least of Nain. ... And the majority of the others will have to go to the Grey Mountains."  
  
"So, we just leave everything we have ever known behind and do nothing?"  
  
"What else would you have us do, Frerin? Our allies have forsaken us and we have not the strength or numbers to retake the Mountain! Not even if all seven houses were to join us could we attempt such a feat!"  
  
You flinch at the sudden outburst and Thorin takes a deep breath to calm himself, rubbing your back in way of an apology for startling you. "I'm sorry.... But we must start afresh - and quickly. We must find shelter and store enough for our people before the winter, but right now that seems an impossible task and our options are limited."  
  
"We could try and reclaim Moria?"  
  
"Haven't you listened to anything your brother has said, Frerin? We have not the strength to retake Erebor, and yet you think we can hope to defeat Durin's Bane? No. Thorin is right. Some must go to Nain - the rest of us will journey to the Grey Mountains. There is nowhere else."  
  
Thorin watches you thoughtfully for a moment before looking up at his father, "There are places to the south and the west that are still unoccupied. The land there is kinder and more fruitful than in the north, is it not? I would take a chance and travel to Dunland, or maybe the Ered Luin if there are any others that are willing."  
  
Thrain thinks over his eldest son's words, but it was the King himself who answers first, coming at last out of his reverie. "And would the want to travel west have anything to do with the girl child cradled in your arms, Thorin?"  
  
You gasp almost inaudibly at the King's bitter tone and chance a quick glance in his direction only to find him staring back at you, his pale grey eyes oddly perceptive. Thorin scowls at his grandfather. "For myself, I will take the child to Bree no matter what my King decides. I gave them my word. Her father, Sigurdr, was friend to us all, was he not? I will not abandon my honour ... Or her. To do so would make me no better than the Elf King who's very name you now curse. If there are none who wish to travel with me, then so be it. I will return to the Grey Mountains after I have delivered her to her kin and we can scratch a living from a barren wasteland."  
  
A flash of anger at his grandson's rebuke appear in Thror's eyes but then suddenly he snorts derisively. "And there's the truth of it. 'Tis a barren wasteland as you so rightly put it." He ponders for a moment, running his fingers through his long, bushy beard. "Fine. It is decided, then. We will gather together any who are willing and travel west and seek out a more prosperous location. And you can keep good on your word and deliver the child."  
  
Frerin looks between his brother and his grandfather. "That road would be long and hard. We would need to scrounge as much provision as we possibly could before embarking on such a journey."  
  
Thorin nods in agreement, stifling a huge yawn. "Aye. Send word out at first light that we head west and any who want to do so can join us, the rest are to go to the Grey Mountains and to the Iron Hills. Tell them to gather as much store as they can find and salvage whatever they can tomorrow. We leave at sunrise on the second day."  
  
Frerin nods as Thorin gets to his feet with a groan, hoisting you back on to his hip. "Now we must sleep. Dawn is fast approaching and we soon have many leagues before us." Without another word he turns his back on the gathered party and heads around the other side of the fire to where the trees were packed more closely together and offered some small shelter from the elements. Setting you down gently he throws his mantle on to the ground like a blanket and slides beneath it, beckoning for you to join him. You sink to the ground beside him and he opens his arms for you, pulling you back into a protective embrace once he wraps the cloak around you both. "Sleep now, dear one. And do not be afraid. I've got you."  
  
You close your eyes, and feeling safe and protected in his arms you allow yourself to drift off to the sound of his deep voice humming softly into your hair.  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Promise Kept, Promise Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there a road I could follow, a sign I should know. Is there a way I can find you and bring you back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out much, much longer than I expected, and also far more fluffy than anticipated too, so I apologise. But here, have some more fatherly Thorin.

It was barely light, the sky to the very east fading from navy to the palest gold as you approached the outskirts of the city. Thorin hitches you in his arms, his breath lightly misting the air as he wraps his cloak tighter about you to keep out the early morning chill. "This way?" He points towards the ruined gates hanging perilously from their supports, and you nod, clutching tighter to him as he begins to carefully pick his way through the vast and precarious mounds of rubble.  
  
Your fears of falling were unfounded however, as he easily scales each pile with a sure foot and drops down on to the cobbles on the other side of the city walls. You blink disbelievingly at the sight that greets you - the once colourful and bustling streets you had so loved, now laid in blackened ruins. More piles of shattered masonry littered the narrow pavements, product of the numerous homes and stores wantonly laid to waste. The rare few buildings left standing were beyond repair, their rooves destroyed and walls crumbling. Splintered beams and rafters laid strewn haphazardly across the road, further adding to the picture of utter desolation.  
  
Shadowy figures moved amongst the wreckage, some searching for loved ones, their plaintive cries cutting sharply through the early morning gloom, whilst others salvaged anything useful they could find from the ruins. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, you pass them by mostly unnoticed, and the few who chanced to look your way only glowered at you from beneath dark hoods, their eyes almost akin to the glowing embers of the small fires that still burned in the thatch.  
  
Your breath catches in your throat at the looks of blame and bitterness being directed your way, and you blink up at Thorin in confusion, your voice hardly a whisper. "Why are they staring at us like that?"  
  
His hold tightens on you as his voice drops to a soft murmur in reply. "I assume that they blame us for bringing this ruin on them. And rightly so. It was the greed of dwarves that brought the dragon down from the wastelands."  
  
Your small frown deepens as you think it through, "Papa always used to say that it was the dwarves who made us all rich, so isn't it all our fault?"  
  
The corner of Thorin's mouth twitches into a humourless smile as he looks down at your indignant expression. "Not everyone is as friendly to us as your father was, child. And regardless of who is to blame, I still think it would be wise for us not to linger here too long." You nod in agreement and answer his questioning look by pointing to the left fork of a crossroad. He quickly follows your directions, his stride purposeful and shoulders tense, but still ignoring the hate filled glances being cast at him from the shadows. You, however, stare back unabashed and wrap your arms tighter around Thorin's neck, feeling suddenly protective of your new friend.   
  
As you get closer to your home, the destruction steadily worsens until the roads become almost impassable. Thorin picks his way through more piles of rubble with care, the slow going increasing his tenseness, visible through the hard set of his jaw and the way his eyes cautiously scanned every dark recess for possible signs of plotted retribution or revenge. His nervousness is not long in seeping through to you, and you find yourself suddenly eager to leave the claustrophobic streets and return to the relative safety and quiet of the countryside. Once clear of the fallen masonry his pace quickens again, and rounding the corner on to your street your eyes fall on to a middle aged woman, her face blackened by soot and her dress torn. She glances up at you without really seeing you, her dark eyes bloodshot and filled with unshed tears as she clutches the cold and unmoving figure of a small boy to her breast.   
  
Thorin's body instantly turns rigid and he gently turns your gaze away, cradling your head into his shoulder, his voice barely audible through his clenched teeth. "Don't look, little one."   
  
You bury your face into his neck obediently and close your eyes, but it was all in vain - the pale, cold face of the child and the unbearable pain in the eyes of the woman were now burned into your memory forever.  
  
Still, Thorin continues to cradle your head until the woman's sobs had faded ever quieter into the distance, and only when they were silenced altogether did he finally let you look up to search for your destination. You gasp as your gaze falls on the mangled building that you had once called home, your eyes filling with fresh tears as Thorin comes to a standstill before the crumbling wall. "Is this it?"  
  
You nod sorrowfully and he gives you a comforting squeeze before placing you on to your own feet. "Stay here..." Without waiting for a response he approaches the caved in doorway and grips the fallen roof beam blocking his entry into the building. His muscles bulge as he shoulders the immense weight and pushes it aside to send it clattering on to the pavement. "The building is unsafe, and the roof is liable to give way at any moment... We will have to hurry." He gestures for you to follow him inside, keeping you close behind him, ready to shield you as he clears aside the broken pieces of wood and fallen stone in his path. "Gather together whatever you can...Stay close to me, now."  
  
Together you search through the wreckage, salvaging anything that might be of use - clothes, blankets, some old saddle bags and other such things. Your eyes fall on the splintered remains of what used to be an ornate writing desk where your father would sit and do his accounts and you let out a small cry, forgetting the danger of the precarious and crumbling roof as you rush forward towards it and drop to your knees to search amongst the pieces. Thorin strides quickly to your side, eyeing the roof with concern for a second before looking down at you with a raised brow. You answer his unspoken question as with a soft exclamation of relief you pull a small, carved wooden chest filled with your most prized possessions out of the rubble and hand it to him. He looks at it curiously for a moment before shrugging and placing it into the midst of the blanket he was using as a makeshift sack. "Come, dear one. We have tarried here too long already. We must leave."  
  
"Wait..." You dig around in the rubble, desperately searching for one last thing, and finally finding the small portrait of your mother and father at the bottom of the pile, hand it up to Thorin. "Done..."  
  
You get to your feet and brush the stone dust from your breeches as the roof gives an ominous groan. Thorin quickly shoulders the sack and grasps your arm, pulling you from the ruins of your home just as the timbers give way and the rest of the apex collapses in a heap in the very spot where you had only seconds before been standing. You emerge back into the now sunlit street coughing, accompanied by a billowing cloud of dust and turn back for one last look at the devastation, not quite ready to let go just yet.  
  
You choke back a wave of emotion as the thought hits you that once more you would be forced to leave behind everything you had ever loved and journey into the unknown. Only this time your father wasn't there to guide you or light the way. This time you had no one.   
  
A hand suddenly enters into your watery vision, and you look up to find Thorin standing over you, his blue eyes filled with sadness and concern. He repositions the sack of your belongings more steadily on to his shoulder, his other hand still outstretched towards you, the simple gesture speaking more than a thousands words ever could. You find your tiny fingers slipping easily into his, and he squeezes your hand gently in comfort, his voice soft. "Come, child."  
  
You wipe your eyes on your sleeve and allow him to lead you back down the street, your eyes lingering one last time on the ruins of your house before you turn your back on it for good. You look up instead at the dwarf beside you and suddenly realise you were wrong before. That you did have someone, and that he understood ... For he too had lost his home. The single thought comforts you as you exit the city by his side.   
  
You were not alone.  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
When spurred into action and backs against the wall, the dwarves were extremely efficient and resourceful. Upon your return from the city, you had found them already roused and organised into various parties - some were to go hunting, others to salvage anything they could from the surrounding land and homesteads, whilst others travelled to Lake Town to buy other such necessities needed for the long journey. By dawn of the second day they had managed to gather together a fair quantity of supplies - mainly food and blankets - that had now been folded into travel packs, or strapped to the many mountain goats and ponies that had also been rounded up the previous day.  
  
At first light the whole encampment rose and made ready to go their separate ways. The elderly and those with young children left first and were to travel east to the Iron Hills, where word had already been sent forward for Nain to expect them. The second group to leave was the largest by far, made up mostly of husbands and wives, young lads and lasses and a few older dwarves who were unwilling to travel west and preferred to take up residence with the few of their kin already living in the Grey Mountains. Still, a great host of almost two thousand strong was assembled, ready to follow their King and Thorin into the unknown - a host that was now waiting beside the river, making last minute adjustments to their gear and filling water skins.  
  
Thorin tightens your small pack of belongings to a small, shaggy pony before taking hold of your hand. Finally satisfied that everything was in order, he takes a hold of the lead rope and guides the pony towards where his family stood waiting at the head of the column, their pale eyes gazing sadly upon the lonely peak of Erebor, lost amidst the clouds.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
Thror reluctantly tears his eyes away from the Mountain and nods at his grandson. "Lead on."  
  
Squaring his shoulders and turning his back resolutely on all he had ever known, Thorin takes a deep breath and urges the pony into a walk, following the path of the river as it winds its way south. Unable to show the same strength and conviction as the dwarf, you allow your eyes to wander towards the distant peak and the marble glint of the causeway that wound its way towards it. You clutch tighter to Thorin's hand, a small whisper escaping your lips as you gaze out across the blackened plain. "Goodbye, Papa."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
  
"We camp here tonight."  
  
The company halts and the surrounding dwarves issue weary groans and sighs as they deposit their packs on the ground and begin to set up camp for the night.  
  
For time beyond count you had continued your journey southward, keeping close to the eaves of some great and vast forest which spanned off into the distance as far as the eye could see. The long days filled with nought but the same scenery and infinite number of trees had made the going seem slower than it actually had, and many of the dwarves were already starting to lose heart. However, a stroke of luck had fallen that very morning as the trees suddenly took a change of direction and you had found yourself rounding the southernmost tip of the great wood only to glance upon a vast and seemingly endless plain of brown heather and granite. Instead of venturing out into the wide open vulnerability of the moorlands however, Thorin had continued to follow the trees as they sloped off in a gentle south easterly direction, and now at last in the rays of the setting sun you could glimpse the light reflecting off what could only be a large surface of water.  
  
Thorin dumps his pack unceremoniously on the ground and rubs at his shoulder as his father pulls a large, battered, parchment map from his cloak pocket and studies it carefully. "We have done well. Unless I am mistaken we are looking upon the Anduin river. With a little luck, we should be able to ford it by sundown tomorrow, and afterwards the going should be a little easier."  
  
Thorin leans over his father's shoulder to study the map, tracing the outline of the river with a finger. "If we keep heading in this direction, we should see Rohan by the day after tomorrow. And after that, we make for the Gap and Dunland, and then the North-South Road."  
  
"Aye. Our only problem will be finding a safe place to ford the river tomorrow. I think our best chance will be to make for the river bend at Undeep, for there the water runs shallow."  
  
Thorin nods in agreement and turns back to the pony, reaching his arms out for you. You smile sleepily at him and yawn, disentangling yourself from Dis' arms and sliding from the exhausted-looking animal's back and into his waiting embrace. Thorin gives you a quick once over and a squeeze before placing you on to your feet and helping Dis from the pony's back so he could begin to unburden it of its saddle and numerous bags.  
  
While Thorin saw to the pony and the bags with the aid of Frerin, you follow Dis to the eaves of the wood as she set about collecting a small bundle of fallen branches and twigs to make a fire. You watch her work for a moment, wondering how best to voice the nagging question playing on your mind, but in finding no other way except your usual brutal honesty you quickly step up to her side. She looks up at you and smiles as you pick up a thin, moss covered branch, but the smile soon dies on her lips as she takes in your expression. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"  
  
You stare down at the small log in your arms, unable to help the worried frown creasing your brow. "Is he going to be alright?"  
  
A few seconds of silence passes and when she doesn't answer you look up at her, only to find her gazing back towards where her brother was unpacking the bags. Her concerned frown mirrored your own, and you knew she didn't have to ask what you had meant. For many days now, Thorin's mood had steadily slipped into something dark and bitter, and the further away from Erebor you travelled the worse it seemed to get until it was almost palpable and effected most of the people around him. Now, he hardly spoke, hardly ate and hardly slept - preferring to spend more time alone and brood than with company.  
  
Dis sighs and turns back to you. "Thorin has always been a sombre person. He's often shouldered more than he should and he takes his duties  very seriously. And now we have lost everything, he's taken the responsibility of leading our people to an unknown fate. Who knows what will befall us? It's not much surprise that he is weighed down with worry. He has many burdens resting on him now."  
  
You bite your lip as you look at him for a moment, your voice small. "And me. I'm another burden, aren't I? Because of me he has to come all this way."  
  
Dis tuts and shakes her head, squatting down next to you and placing a hand on your shoulder to bring your gaze back to hers. "Is that what you think, child? That you're a burden to him?"  
  
When you don't respond she continues with a soft sigh. "Nothing could be further from the truth, little one.... In fact, I think the only comfort he finds now is in you... You're the only one who can draw a smile from him anymore, and he prefers your company to anyone else's."  
  
"He promised to take care of me, though. He didn't have to do that."  
  
She shakes her head again. "No, he didn't. He does it because he wants to..." She brushes the hair back from your face and gives you a small smile.. "He likes you."  
  
You smile back at her despite yourself, "I like him too."  
  
She nods and chuckles, reaching for another few pieces of wood. "So I've noticed...  _Mîaskâd (little shadow).."_       
  
You giggle softly at her use of Thorin's nickname for you and help her gather the rest of the wood in silence, feeling slightly better for the first time in days - and later that night, when Thorin came for you as he always did, you curled up close to him and made sure to hug him just a little bit tighter than usual. Brow raised in quiet surprise, he makes no comment, but you can feel him relax a little beside you as he pulls you into his strong embrace and places his customary kiss into your hair before beginning to hum you a soft lullaby in his rich voice.  
  
Dis smiles softly to herself from across the fire, and not until long after you had fallen asleep, tucked safely under Thorin's arm, did he finally look up from your peaceful face to find her watching him. "What?"  
  
She shrugs, continuing to smile and quite unabashed by his suddenly defensive tone. "Nothing... I was just thinking what a good father you will make some day."  
  
He snorts softly and shakes his head. "I think that future is all but gone now...."   
  
Thorin spares another quick glance at you as you continue to slumber soundly in his arms. "Besides, I do not have the patience that fatherhood would require."  
  
Dis smirks in disbelief. "You say you do not have the patience, and yet see how the child clings to you."  
  
"She's just lost everything she has ever known. She will cling to anyone or anything that offers her any kind of protection."  
  
Dis shakes her head and rolls her eyes at her older brother. "She loves you, Thorin. That much is plain. _And_ she worries for you."  
  
Thorin raises a brow questioningly, "Why should she worry?"  
  
She shrugs, twisting on to her side in her bedroll, the better to look at him. "She's very intelligent and oddly perceptive, you know. She came to me, worried that she was a burden to you."  
  
Thorin's eyes widen and he splutters indignantly. "What?! She.... But .... How can she think that?"  
  
He takes a deep breath and drops his voice as you stir restlessly in his arms. "I often wonder if she is not the only thing that keeps me from going completely insane!"  
  
Dis sighs sympathetically. "Don't worry ... I told her she was wrong... But you may want to at least try eating and sleeping every once in a while... Despite how hard it might seem."  
  
Thorin scowls over at his little sister as she snuggles back into her blankets, knowing she was probably right and that his moods had hardly been the best recently. He had so many worries constantly swirling through his mind, and the weight of the responsibility he now felt hung around his neck like a bar of lead that got heavier with each passing day. He looks down at you again and frowns. He hadn't known his moods were so noticeable or affecting others so strongly, and that concerned him. He would be more mindful of it in the future. If a small child had picked up on them, it could also be as easily interpreted by the others as weakness or indecision. He had to be someone they could trust in and follow with confidence, in the safe knowledge he would not lead them astray. "Fine."  
  
Dis winks at him, stifling a yawn. "You know, you can say whatever you want ... But I think you love that child as much as she loves you."  
  
"Hmpf." Thorin rests his head back against the blanket, unable to stay even jokingly mad at his sister for much longer. "There's just something ... Maybe I saw a little bit of myself in her..."  
  
"Mmmm ..... Except she's _far_ less grumpy."  
  
" _Goodnight_ , Dis."  
  
"G'night, Thorin."  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
The next day, as planned, you had come upon the river Anduin and found that Thrain's fears had been unfounded. As you approached Undeep you had discovered that the river indeed ran swift, but also shallow - shallow enough that it barely covered your feet and the hooves of the ponies. The entire company had forded it without problem or incident and you had soon found yourselves looking upon the rolling green hills of Rohan. The days after that had passed swifter still. The land and climate was much kinder and afforded much easier going, allowing you to cover many leagues in a single day. The morale of the travelling dwarves soon picked up again, especially when you came within sight of the first settlement you had seen since Lake Town. That night, the dwarves discussed whether or not to journey to the town for much needed supplies, deciding at last that they would take a large enough group and set off a first light to buy essentials and offer themselves for labour to increase their meagre money supply. Thorin and Frerin were to go with them - something that neither Dis nor yourself were very happy about. After Dis' reasoning had failed to change Thorin's mind, you decided to try your luck;  
  
"I don't want you to go."  
  
Thorin pauses in his packing of a flask and some food into a small bag, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair and trying to keep the corner of his lips from twitching into an amused smile as he turns to face you, first taking in your folded arms and then your fierce expression. "Why not?"  
  
As forthright as ever, you bound the distance between the two of you and allow him to scoop you up into his arms. You blink back at him sagely. "I'll miss you."  
  
Thorin's beard twitches as his smile widens. "I'll miss you too. But I'll be back before sundown." He gestures to your severely worn boots, eyeing a hole in the toe critically. "Besides, I promised you I would make you some new boots, but I have not the materials to do so. If I go into the town I will be able to get what I need."  
  
Undeterred even by the promise of new boots, you voice your biggest concern. "But what if the people there aren't very nice?"  
  
Thorin shrugs, still smiling. "Then there will be enough of us to make sure it doesn't get out of hand and we'll be on our way. We'll be perfectly safe, little one."  
  
Defeated, you slump in his arms and shake your head disappointedly over at Dis, causing Thorin to suddenly bellow in laughter as he sees your shared expression. Startled, everyone within earshot turns to look at him, but he only continues to chuckle. "Now it all becomes clear...I see I am being conspired against."  
  
He gives you a tight squeeze, still laughing softly as he places you back on to your feet and shoulders his bag. "I'll be back before you know it, you'll see."  
  
With a small wave he strides off to join the large party of dwarves that were to make the journey, leaving you to stand and watch him go feeling slightly bereaved.  
  
"Come on..." Dis holds her hand out to you. "I'll show you how to make beads to pass the time..."  
  
Despite Dis' best attempts at showing you how to make dwarven beads, you just couldn't give it your full attention, and found your eyes constantly wandering across the fields in the direction of town. As such, the day passed slowly, and even collecting more firewood and gathering berries did little to idle the time away. In the end, Dis gave you up as a lost cause and allowed you to sit atop the small hillock outside the camp and brood whilst waiting for Thorin to return. There you were eventually joined by an older and kindly looking dwarf with a very large nose, who introduced himself as Balin. Sitting down beside you, he took out his pipe and after filling and lighting it, proceeded to tell you many fantastical tales of birds and beasts, and of epic battles both won and lost. Unable to help giving yourself over to your weakness for such stories, you soon found yourself listening with rapt attention as Balin described the many far off places he had seen in his youth. Only when the sun began to sink beyond the horizon and a group of figures could just been seen in the distance making their way towards camp, did he fall silent. You shade your eyes against the dying light and jump to your feet excitedly. He was back.  
  
Balin smiles at your enthusiasm and gestures towards the oncoming party. "Well? What are you waiting for?"  
  
You grin at him and launch yourself into a full sprint across the fields, running as fast as your small legs could carry you. You hear the older dwarf laugh from behind you before a deep voice calls your name. Thorin drops his bags before you reach him and holds his arms out to you, grunting slightly as you collide with him full force. His booming laugh rolls over the hills as he picks you up and swings you around, causing the other dwarves in the party to smile despite their apparent weariness. "You truly missed me that much?"  
  
You nod, throwing your arms around his neck and holding on tight as he bends to pick up his bags again. He passes you the smallest one to hold for him and proceeds to make his way towards camp again. "What did you do today?"  
  
"Dis showed me how to make beads and then Balin told me stories."  
  
"He did?" He smiles at the older dwarf as he approaches him and gives him a grateful nod. "Thank you, my friend."  
  
Balin returns the nod and smiles. "It was my pleasure, laddie. Not often I get such a rapt audience. It's good for my ego."  
  
Thorin chuckles and drops his bags beside the camp fire as the rest of the party save Frerin disperse to find their friends and loved ones. He pulls Dis into a one armed hug and kisses her brow. "And did you listen to Balin's stories too?"  
  
She shakes her head and gestures towards the cooking pot over the fire. "No. When it became clear that your shadow had no attention for learning how to make beads and would rather spend the day pining for you, I decided to make you a stew for when you returned."  
  
Thorin grins as you gaze apologetically at Dis. "It smells good. I'm so hungry I could eat a pony."  
  
You giggle as he drops you to your feet and you sink to the floor beside the fire as Dis begins to ladle stew into a wooden bowl for him. "Did everything go well in town?"  
  
Thorin nods, unfastening the straps on the smallest bag that you had been holding and sinking down next to you. "Yes. We were made most welcome. They seemed almost desperate for decent craftsmen. We managed to get a good many supplies today, and earn some money too. And..." He turns to you, pulling a few items out of the small, cloth bag. "I also managed to get the materials for your boots. After I have eaten I will work on them." He hands you some soft, treated leather and you run it between your fingers, revelling in the silkiness of its touch.  
  
A short while later, once he had eaten his fill and discussed the day's events with his father and the King, Thorin finally gets to work on the promised boots. You sit quietly beside him and watch him as he works, a sway of emotions running through you as you remembered Asvi promising to make you dwarven boots in what now seemed a lifetime ago. You sigh softly in memory, and Thorin glances up at you, his sure, swift fingers hardly pausing as he stitches the soft buckskin. You give him a small smile and he returns his focus to the boots now taking shape in his skilled hands. You give your full attention to watching him, desperate to keep dark and depressing thoughts away and cherish this moment with him instead. He works long into the night, using the light of the roaring fire to see by. You catch the glint of something shiny as he pulls it out of his bag and he holds it out for you to see. In his hands were two beaten and carved metal plates, decorated with a simple isometric design, just like the ones that sheathed the tips of his own boots. "I made these in the forge in town today. They should prevent the holes you seem victim to. And it makes stubbing your toes much less painful, trust me."  
  
You giggle softly and reach out to run your fingers gently over the engraving. "So pretty..."  
  
He smiles in satisfaction and begins to fix the metal plates over the ends of the boots, tampering two small rivet pins through the metal and into the sole to keep them in place. Once they were done he winds a single leather strap around each boot, criss-crossing it back over itself before fixing them tightly with two small, silver buckles. Seemingly at an end to his long labour his holds the boots out into the light of the fire and inspects them critically. "Not as good as they would have been had they been made for you in Erebor, but still not bad considering the circumstances." He offers them to you. "Try them on?"  
  
You nod happily and pull off your old boots, sticking out your feet. Thorin places each small, fur cover boot on to your foot and tightens the leather straps firmly around your legs. "There. A little big, perhaps..... Let me see you walk in them."  
  
He gives you a hand up and you get unsteadily to your feet and place an experimental foot forward. The boots were soft and comfortable, but different to anything you had ever worn before. They required a different kind of movement that you were unaccustomed to and would obviously take some time to acquire. Still, refusing to be beaten and thrilled with your new footwear you prance around the fire trying your best to look graceful. Thorin's hearty laughter fills the air once more and you grin back at him, noticing to your surprise the rest of his family watching with quiet amusement too. "How do I look?"  
  
"Adorable."  
  
You pout at being referred to as adorable and Thrain chips in to save his son from your ire by saying "Very dwarf-like."  
  
You flash him your sweetest smile, mollified for the moment as you prance back to Thorin and throw your arms around his neck and squeeze tight. "Thank you for my boots, Thorin."  
  
He smiles softly, pulling you into a big bear hug, his eyes oddly bright. "You're welcome, Mîaskâd. I'm glad you like them."  
  
You snuggle into his lap and wiggle your feet experimentally. "They're so beautiful. I love them."  
  
"Good!" He ruffles your hair fondly. "Now.... Off to sleep with you. It's way past your bedtime and you'll need all your energy to learn to walk in those."  
  
Frerin chuckles around his pipe. "I doubt it will take her long. She gets more like a dwarf with every passing day. She'll be growing a beard next."  
  
You poke your tongue out at him from under Thorin's arm as you settle against his chest, mumbling quietly about there being more chance of you kissing a goblin than ever wanting to grow a beard. Frerin chuckles again, and Thorin grins down at you as he gently begins to rock you off to sleep.  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
As you continued your travel through Rohan, the late summer melted away completely to be well and truly replaced by autumn. Thorin's urgency to find shelter for his people before the winter swiftly deteriorated his mood once more, and the company found themselves having to pick up the pace as he pushed them to go further and further every day. Every so often the host would come across a settlement and you would camp for the day as Thorin and a group of others went off to enquire after work and build up their provision. On these particular days you whiled away the time waiting for him by either learning to make beads with Dis, listening to Balin's stories, or learning to walk properly in your new boots. You were pleased with the progress you had been making (with the patient help of Balin) and you could even run in them now, something that had amused Thorin greatly as you had charged across the fields to meet him upon his return from the town.  
  
Despite his surlier moods, Thorin would always have a smile for you when he returned and would whisk you up in his arms and ask you to tell him all about your day. You would regale him with all sorts of trivial stories while he ate and until it was time for you to sleep, then he would settle down beside you and hold you close as you wrapped your usual finger around one of his braids.  
  
And so it continued until at long last you came upon the southernmost tip of the Misty Mountains and passed through the gap of Rohan into Dunland, just as the first snow of the approaching winter began to fall on the lower slopes. Camped that night in the shelter of a large outcropping of hard rock beside the great North-South road, the dwarves discussed their next course of action.   
  
"I say we stop now and search for somewhere close by to see the winter out." Thrain looks up at the threatening sky, already casting the land into semi-darkness despite it only being early afternoon. "There are many cave systems in the mountains round about that would be more than sufficient. We can search for somewhere more permanent in the spring."  
  
The King nods his agreement. "Aye. We have done well to travel so far in such a short space of time. But none of us could have foreseen the early winter. We will settle here until the harsh weather has passed."  
  
Thorin also looks down from the ominous sky to find his father and grandfather watching him. He nods his assent. "Here is as good as anywhere, I suppose. There are also many settlements nearby which will ensure that we can get enough provision to see us through the winter."  
  
Thror's eyes fall to you, sleeping fitfully beside his grandson. "And the child? Do you still intend to return her to her kin?"  
  
When Thorin doesn't answer, the King presses on, oddly perceptive as always. "She can not stay with us, Thorin. As fond as we have all become of her, she belongs with her own kind."  
  
Thorin grumbles in annoyance, his customary scowl crossing his face. "I am completely aware that she can not stay with us. And I have every intention of returning her to her kin as soon as we have found a suitable place for our people to stay."  
  
Thror nods, satisfied. "Very well. Take however many you need to ensure your safety, but do not tarry. It would be best if you were to return before the winter truly sets in."   
  
Thorin gives a single nod of understanding but makes no comment, slipping instead into a brooding silence.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
For the next few days the dwarves scoured the southern reaches of the Misty Mountains in large parties, searching for somewhere to call home for a while. On the eighth day, a large party led by none other than Balin reported back to the King with news of a large system of caves that were both sound and large enough to accommodate the entire company with ease. The very next day the King, along with Thrain, Thorin and Frerin rode out to investigate and were all well pleased with what they saw. The network of caves were large, dry and only had one entry way into them, making them almost invulnerable to any attack. A crystal clear, rock filtered stream also ran through one of the caverns, meaning the dwarves would have a constant supply of fresh water. The discovery of the location was a pure stroke of good fortune, and the King decreed that the company would relocate there the very next day.   
  
With a flurry of activity and much hustle and bustle the dwarves soon settled into their new, albeit temporary home. As you had found before, the dwarves were extremely resourceful when needed, and in a the space of two short days, they had made it seem as though they had always been there.   
  
Unfortunately for you, in the chaos of the move you had hardly seen Thorin except at night, when long after you had drifted off into an uneasy sleep, he would climb into bed beside you as he had always done. His absence had triggered a severe dip in your own mood and a run of nightmares that all centred around a huge, unidentifiable beast that chased you through dark places, spitting hot, liquid fire as it came. You would always jolt awake from these dreams with a cry, soaked and trembling, only to find Thorin watching you, his sea blue eyes soft with concern and something else you couldn't quite recognise. He would then pull you closer and comfort you until the images of the dream had faded into a dull, sleep deprived haze and you would clutch tighter to him, all too aware of the icy feelings of dread spreading further into your stomach as the hours and days continued to swiftly pass by and the time of your departure grew close.  
  
  
When the feeling became almost unbearable a short while later, you decided to broach the subject.  
  
"I have to leave, don't I?"  
  
"Mmm?" Thorin pauses in the midst of packing a small bag, jumping in surprise to find you standing behind him, having not heard you approach.  
  
"I said I have to leave, don't I?"  
  
Thorin doesn't answer, but instead turns back to his bag, shoving items into it with renewed force, torn between his anger at the world and his usual amazement at your level of perception. Anger finally wins out and his jaw clenches as last night's conversation with his father plays through his mind.   
  
_"Thorin. I know why you linger ... I warned you about getting so attached."  
  
_ He had slammed his fist against the hard rock in frustration before burying his face in his hands. _"I know! .. But many things are easier said than done!"  
  
_ Thrain had nodded in understanding and placed his hand on his son's shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze. _"Truer words have never been spoken....  And I never thought for a moment she would effect you so profoundly.... But then again, I suppose she found her way into all our hearts eventually."_ Thrain had chuckled softly, _"Even some hearts I thought were made of stone, like your grandfather's."  
  
_ He had looked up at his father desperately. _"I can't explain what it is .. There's just something that draws me to her."  
  
_ Thrain had sighed softly then, obviously feeling a little out of his depth and uncomfortable at seeing his son suffer such turmoil. _"And us all.. She's a special child... And no doubt she has been a great comfort to you, as you have to her... But you have to be strong now, and do what is right. Your grandfather spoke wisely. She needs to be with her own people. News of the sack of Erebor will no doubt have spread to Bree already and her uncle will probably be searching for her. You will have to take her, Thorin ... Tomorrow."  
  
_ He had slumped against the wall, defeated. _"Tomorrow, then."  
  
_ Thrain had gazed upon him kindly and he had seen the sorrow and regret in his father's eyes. _"Gather together provision, and take our best warriors to keep you both safe."  
  
_ He had shaken his head, angry without really knowing why. _"No. I will travel light and fast - get it over with. Too many others would only serve to slow me down and draw attention. I will take Frerin. We can be there and back within the month, and pass by mostly unseen."  
  
"So be it."_  
  
You gaze silently at Thorin's back and the tense line of his shoulders, his silence and bearing giving you all the answer you need.   
  
"When?"  
  
He sighs in exasperation, pulling hard at the strap to fasten his bag before turning to face you. "In an hour."  
  
"Oh." You blink a few times, not expecting it to have been quite so soon. "You're coming with me?"  
  
Thorin's eyes soften at your expression and he crouches down towards you, brushing the hair out of your eyes. "Of course, little one. I promised I would take you. And I never break my promises."  
  
You nod, feeling slightly better that you would not have to be separated from him just yet. "Can I say goodbye to everyone first?"  
  
He nods and swallows hard before replying. "Of course."  
  
An hour later found you standing beside the same pony who had carried you from Erebor as Thorin strapped the last few items to its back - mainly last minute gifts you had been given from various dwarves for you to remember them by. A small journal of stories that Balin had written for you, some beads from Dis, and to your surprise a small silver hunting knife given to you by the King himself, who had wished you a safe journey and had named you dwarf-friend. Touched, you had tucked the items carefully into your small chest of treasured possessions before handing it back to Thorin to pack with the rest of your things.  
  
After one last hug bestowed on both of you by a teary Dis, Thorin lifts you into the saddle before climbing up behind you. Frerin hugs his sister goodbye and mounts a second pony standing patiently beside yours. Thror's pale eyes pass from your face and to each of his grandsons. "Safe journey. Ride hard and fast, and be watchful."  
  
Thorin nods and tightens an arm around you as he spurs the pony into action, altering his course slightly into a more more north-westerly direction so as to join with the road that would take you all the way to Bree.   
  
Once the road had been reached the journey flew by at an alarming rate - definitely too swift for your liking - and mostly without incident or delay. Thorin also preferred to travel through the night for safety purposes, and would only stop to eat and sleep once the sun had fully risen. The only hold-up you encountered at all was six days into your journey when you came upon the ghostly ruins of the old Númenórean city of Tharbad. An uneasy feeling fell upon all of you as you drew nearer to the river Greyflood, and it was perhaps that more than the crumbling and dangerous looking ford that caused Thorin to travel a few miles west downstream and find a less ominous place to cross the river. It was also the reason he had refused to stop at dawn as he usually did, preferring to put as many leagues between you and the eerie city as was possible before making camp. For a further five days afterwards, you continued to travel the road north until at last the land changed into something more familiar. Now, instead of wild and barren moors and grasslands, the fields were tamed, well ploughed and bursting with winter crops. Every once in a while a homestead could be spotted nestled between the trees, and you began to encounter various other traffic on the roads, none of which even gave you a second glance.   
  
You were nearing your destination.   
  
That afternoon, Thorin gave the order to make camp earlier than usual. Frerin made no comment, seeming to understand as he instantly went off into a small wood to gather sticks for the fire. Stretching himself out with a low groan against the trunk of a large tree, Thorin gestures for you to come to him, and you go without hesitation, knowing as well as he that these would be the last few hours you would spend together. Curling up against him, you allow him to wrap his arms around you in his customary embrace and pull you close. Safe and warm, you rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the sound of his strong heartbeat and his gentle breathing - staying that way for a small eternity, until Frerin could clearly be heard returning through the under brush to disturb your moment of peace and tranquillity. Seconds later he appears and the moment is gone. Thorin glances over at his brother, noticing that his arms were full of more branches than they would ever need for their small camp fire.  
  
All through that night, you had both remained awake, unable to sleep and wanting to cherish every last precious moment of each other's company. Your finger wrapped firmly around one of Thorin's braids, you resisted the urge to bury your face into his hair as you usually did and instead chose to look up into his eyes and try and commit to memory every small detail of the one who now meant so much to you. He reaches out to gently tuck your unruly hair behind your ear and gazes back at you steadily as though he was of the same frame of mind. And no matter how much you wished it otherwise, the sun still rose all to soon, and even if Thorin made a great deal of fuss over breakfast, taking his time and double checking everything - he eventually could not find any further reason to remain and reluctantly declared that you should all be getting on. Wrapping his travelling cloak firmly about him and taking your hand in his, he sets off at a leisurely walk, using the excuse of giving the ponies a rest to spend just that little bit longer with you.  
  
As you approach the squat, bustling of Bree he lifts his hood to shield his face from curious eyes and stops to scoop you into his arms before passing through the wooden gates. You glance about you curiously, recognising nothing and having hardly any memories of ever living here _or_ of the man who would be your new protector. Thorin leans in to murmur to you softly. "Do you know where your uncle will be?"  
  
You shake your head and he frowns, looking about him for some idea of what to do next. Frerin points to an inn by the side of the main street. "We could try there?"  
  
Thorin nods in agreement and heads in its direction, his eyes passing over the rearing white horse on the tavern sign before quietly pushing the door open and stepping inside. As soon as he enters, everyone stops talking and turns to look at you. For a split second there was nothing but silence and you start to wonder if you had interrupted some kind of town meeting, but then a strange voice calls your name in stunned disbelief, and you find your attention distracted from the many faces staring at you as you seek out its owner.  
  
A man with long hair and beard and dressed in dreary, travel worn clothes steps out from a crowd of others similarly attired, the shock on his face matching that in his voice as he rushes forward towards you. His expression suddenly changes into one of relief and he gasps your name out again, hardly able to speak. Thorin frowns at the man, taking in his appearance and keeping his protective hold on you tight. "You are the child's uncle?"  
  
The man pauses a few steps away from you, truly noticing Thorin and Frerin for the first time. "Forgive me. Indeed, I am Agvaldr .. Sigurdr, the babe's father, was my brother."  
  
Thorin relaxes slightly and nods to you before placing you on your own feet. You shrink into Thorin's side, clutching at his leg as you gaze back at the stranger who crouches down before you, a kindly smile on his face. "Do not be afraid, child. Even though you may not remember me, I could never forget you."  
  
You glance up at Thorin again and he nods once more, watching closely as you search in your pocket for the item you needed and then presenting it to the stranger. He takes the proffered item and gazes at it sadly for a second. "Your father's ring."  
  
"He said that I had to find you and that you would know me by it."  
  
Agvaldr smiles softly, his eyes still filled with sadness as he hands the ring back to you. "I do not need this to know you by, love. Keep it. It belongs to you now."  
  
You take the ring back from him as he stands to address Thorin once more. "Forgive my rudeness... I am just beyond relieved to find her safe... When the news reached us of the destruction of Dale and Erebor I travelled east immediately, only to be told by the people there that my brother had been killed in the attack and that my niece had left with a company of dwarves who had headed south. I returned in haste only yesterday and was planning on setting out this very evening to search the North-South road for any sign of you."  
  
Thorin inclines his head, "Then I can tell you that you heard correctly. We did indeed travel south, preferring to take the less dangerous route through the Gap of Rohan and into Dunland. And here I must apologise for the delay, but our King had a necessity to find shelter for our people before the winter. As soon as we found adequate lodgings I set out to fulfil my promise to Sigurdr and deliver the child unto you."  
  
Agvaldr waves away the apology, "You have no need to apologise. You have had a long and hard road, and you have taken care of the child when you did not need to." He glances around at the rest of the men eagerly listening in on the conversation. "Let it never be said that Durin's folk have no care for anyone but their own..." He turns back to Thorin, "You have proved that you have honour of the very highest order, and I am greatly in your debt. If there is any way I can ever repay you for the good deed you have done my family...."  
  
Thorin shakes his head, his eyes flicking down to you again. "I thank you for your kind words, but I ask for nothing ....Sigurdr was a good friend to us. And having the privilege of spending time with this child is payment enough. I only beg that you take good care of her, for she is very dear to me."   
  
Agvaldr's eyes widen slightly in astonishment at the outspoken sentiment. "Of course.. You have my word.... But at least allow me to pay your expenses." He pulls a small bag of gold from his cloak, but Thorin waves it away. "Just allow me to have a moment to say goodbye? That's all I ask for.."  
  
The man nods earnestly, placing the rejected gold back into his pocket and gesturing towards a small room that led off the main hall. "But of course. Take as long as you need."  
  
Thorin places your bags down on the floor beside Agvaldr and gestures for you to follow him. As soon as you were safely in the parlour room and out of earshot he turns to you and crouches down, pulling you tight into his arms. "Here is where I must leave you, my Mîaskâd."  
  
You choke back a sob and bury your face into his hair. "But I want to stay with you..."  
  
Thorin looks for a moment as though he was half considering the very same thing, but after a warning glance from Frerin who was guarding the door, he shakes his head. "I would like that too, believe me. But my life will be too uncertain for the foreseeable future. I can not rightly be the one to look after you or provide for you in such circumstances. That would be unfair and doing you an injustice... Besides..." He pulls back to look at you, making no attempt to disguise his own tear filled eyes, "You have to be with your own people, so you have the chance of a life and a family of your own."  
  
Your arms tighten around his neck and you shake your head, your tears streaming freely down your cheeks. "But I'll miss you..."  
  
He nods, "And I you, my love. But maybe one day yet we will meet again... And when I finally build my halls, you will always be made welcome."  
  
You sniff pitifully and wipe your eyes on the back of your hand before reaching inside your shirt for the small amulet you always wore at your throat. You untie it with clumsy fingers and hold it out to him. "Mama always said this would keep me safe, and she was right because I found you. Maybe it will keep you safe too so I can come back and visit you some day."  
  
Thorin clenches his jaw and shakes his head, closing your small palm around the carved trinket. "I can not take this, dear one."  
  
"Please, Thorin... For me..." You pull your hand out of his and reach up to fasten it around his neck before he can further protest, your expression stern. "To keep you safe..."  
  
Thorin sighs, relenting. "Fine. I will always wear it with honour.... But now I will worry that you are without any charm to bring you luck, so it will only be fair if we make an exchange." He unfastens a couple of leather cords from his shirt and quickly twists them to make a braided thong. Satisfied, he slips off the silver ring he always wore on his middle finger and places it on the cord before offering it out to you and tying it securely around your neck. Once it was in place he grasps the ring between his thumb and forefinger, highlighting the flower-like engraving in the metal for you to see. "This mark is my seal - my symbol. The King has already named you dwarf-friend, but if you ever need my help or that of any of my kin, they will know you by this and are honour bound to assist you in any way they can. And maybe it will bring you some luck, too."   
  
You nod and mutter a choked thank you as he pulls you back into one last embrace.  
  
"Thorin. We have to go. The sun is already starting to fall."  
  
Thorin glances at his brother from over your shoulder and nods, pulling back slightly to look at you. "I truly wish you every joy conceivable. Farewell, my love."  
  
He rises to his feet and nods to Frerin, who also gives you a tight hug and wishes you well before opening the door back on to the main hall. Agvaldr steps forward as you all reappear, the tears in the eyes of both you and Thorin not lost on him. He gestures towards the door and Thorin nods gratefully, avoiding the curious glances and quickly stepping outside into the late afternoon air.  
  
He turns to face your uncle as the man closes the tavern door behind him and begins to speak. "I thank you once again for everything you have done.. And if you ever need any help I am forever at your service.." He studies Thorin's face thoughtfully for a moment before continuing in a softer voice. "I am also very sorry for your loss, and grieve for what has befallen you and your people, Thorin son of Thrain."  
  
Thorin's eyes widen for a moment with the surprise of this unremarkable stranger knowing his identity, but he quickly lets his face fall back into an unreadable mask and nods in gratitude for the sentiment. Undeterred, Agvaldr continues; "If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion? Come spring, look to the Blue Mountains."  
  
Thorin raises a brow questioningly. "The Blue Mountains? Why?"  
  
Agvaldr shrugs, reaching out for your hand. "Just a hunch."  
  
Thorin studies the man's face again for a long moment and then nods once. "I will keep it in mind... Now we really should be going.." He reaches out to touch your cheek one last time before squaring his shoulders with some hidden strength and finally tearing his eyes away from your face.   
  
"Are you sure you won't take anything with you?"  
  
Thorin shakes his head in reply to Agvaldr's question, refusing to look your way again and cost himself the pain. "I already have the most precious thing in the world."  
  
Without any further word or explanation, he spurs the pony into action and you stand on the steps of The Prancing Pony and watch him grow smaller and smaller as he canters away towards the main gate. Your fingers toy with the ring about your neck as you watch him finally fade from your life, and in that very moment you make a silent vow to all the gods in heaven that you would one day repay him for all he had done.


	4. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where you love is home. Your feet may leave it, but never your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back into present day with this chapter. This started off a lot longer, but when it reached over 15,000 words I decided to split it into three.

"My Lady?"  
  
The vivid images you had suddenly been lost to continue to play out in your mind, dredging up a host of emotion that you had long since buried in the deepest recesses of your heart. But now, upon sight of the dwarf king, the walls that you had so carefully built to spare yourself the pain crumbled and shattered, and the feelings and memories that you had tried so hard to forget burst forth in a tidal wave that threatened to drown out everything else.  
  
You take a deep, shuddering breath past the painful constriction in your chest and look up to find his eyes and the eyes of everyone else fixed firmly upon you. A flash of panic jolts through your body and your heart thuds harder behind your ribs as you realise he had been speaking to you and that your slide into the past had definitely not gone unnoticed. Red faced, you lift your chin to face him. "Forgive me, my Lord. My mind was elsewhere.."  
  
He frowns as he studies you intently for a short moment before repeating himself. "I am left wondering why you seem so very familiar to me. It's almost as if we have met before, and yet, I am sure I would have remembered such a meeting.." He paces before you as he studies you, eyes narrowed and fingers smoothing his beard as he loses himself deep in thought. You remain silent, trying your best to keep a calm façade despite the treacherous pounding in your chest. "Or maybe..." He stops his pacing and turns to look you directly in the eye and you can almost see his mind trying to fit the pieces together.  
  
Swallowing hard under the scrutiny, you know the moment you had both prayed for and dreaded in equal measure had come at last and that there would be no escaping it this time. Everything would now depend on this moment and on how you would be received.  
  
"Yes..." His hand moves subconsciously to his throat, and he clutches painfully hard at something small under his shirt. "Your eyes.... You remind me of someone I knew .... Long ago."  
  
He breaks off, seeming suddenly embarrassed at being caught off guard and at the admission. "Forgive me. I have taken leave of myself for a moment. I did not mean to be rude."  
  
You make no reply, but instead take a small, tentative step towards him. He tenses slightly, his expression one of great surprise as you reach out a trembling hand and gently withdraw the thin leather thong from inside his collar. His wary eyes fix firmly upon yours, but he makes no attempt to stop you as you gently slide the small amulet from his grasp and out from under his shirt. You let the small, severely worn trinket rest warm against your fingers as you study it carefully by the torch light, your eyes softening and filling with emotion as you gaze upon the familiar item. Your heart begins to dance in earnest once more upon realising that Thorin had kept his word to you and worn it, and a fresh bloom of hope begins to blossom in your chest with the thought. You smile softly as you place it gently back at his throat and look up at him, your voice hardly more than a whisper when it comes. "You are reminded of a small child, perhaps? A small child you protected and comforted even when you felt you had no comfort left to give?"  
  
Thorin's eyes widen and you hear his breath catch in his throat, "Yes .... But.... How did you -.."   
  
You see the sudden realisation dawn in his eyes and he staggers back a step, his face draining of colour. "It can not be...?"   
  
His disbelieving gaze follows your hand to your own throat as you hook a thin finger under the cord around your neck and withdraw it, revealing a large, silver ring with a small flower shaped crest etched upon it. He shakes his head in inescapable denial, struggling for breath as he quickly tries to do the math but can come up with no satisfying explanation for the young woman he sees standing before him. "How can this be possible?!"  
  
You fix him with a steady gaze, "Your eyes do not deceive you, Thorin son of Thrain. The blood of Númenor flows in my veins and I am blessed with a life beyond that of most mortal men."  
  
Quiet murmurs echo around the entrance hall as the dwarves process this new information, but Thorin ignores them completely, his gaze still locked on yours as though he could scarcely believe this could be true and was expecting to wake from his dream at any moment. He lifts a hand slowly, forgetting to breathe as he questioningly reaches out to trace the backs of his fingers across your cheek - his eyes filling with unshed tears when he finds the truth of it in his heart and feels you warm and very much alive beneath his touch. " _....Mîaskâd?"_  
  
You inhale sharply and close your eyes at the contact, pressing your cheek further into his warm hand to seek the comfort only he could provide you, sighing softly as his gentle fingers continue across your cheek and along your jaw, finally catching a loose strand of hair and tucking it carefully behind your ear. You smile at the once familiar gesture and open your eyes again to gaze back at him. A single, solitary tear finally spills over unbidden and rolls down your cheek. "....My King."  
  
A gut wrenching sob echoes through the silence and a commotion suddenly catches your attention over Thorin's shoulder as a familiar dwarf female extracts herself from the small group that had accompanied their King into the hall, drawing your attention to them for the first time. She walks towards you as if in a trance, her anguished eyes also filled with tears, "Can it be possible? Can it really be you?"  
  
The intimate moment broken, Thorin lets his hand fall and takes a reluctant step back to give her room to greet you. Inclining your head towards the woman, you're unable to help the small smile from ghosting your lips as she stops before you with wide eyes. "Shamukh ra ghelekhur aimâ, Dis."  
  
Another series of whispers issue from the the alcoves from the host of witnesses, but she ignores them even as Thorin had and suddenly laughs delightedly, her face splitting into a huge grin filled with wonder and joy. "It is you!"   
  
Before you could blink she launches herself at you and pulls you into a tight embrace, almost beside herself with happiness. "I see your Khuzdul has improved much in the time we have been parted! Hail and well met indeed!"   
  
You fall easily into her arms, burying your face into the soft, blacker than coal hair on her shoulder, hugging her back for all you were worth and whispering sincerely into her ear. "I have missed you, Dis."  
  
She chokes back another sob at your words and pulls back to take a better look at you. "And I you..." She stares at you in amazement for a long moment before laughing again and wiping her wet cheeks on the back of her hand. "Welcome home, little shadow."  
  
"It is good to be home."  
  
She releases you at last and takes your hand tightly in hers, eyes flicking to her brother who had somewhat regained a semblance of composure that was only belied by the haunted look in his eyes. Thorin takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders as he meets your gaze once more. "Will you stay, my Lady? We are soon to have dinner and it would gladden me greatly if you would join us."  
  
You bow your head to him, avoiding his eyes. "I thank you for your hospitality my Lord, but alas, I can not. I have already tarried too long in delivering my report and must return to my men."  
  
Thorin winces almost imperceptibly at your sudden return to formality, a flash of panic crossing his eyes at the thought of you leaving so soon - but it was Dis who was the first to protest as she looks up at you in shocked indignation. "But you have only just arrived! Surely the meeting of old friends is worthy of the delay!?"  
  
You sigh, your heart clenching painfully at the obvious hurt in her eyes. "Indeed it is, and I assure you I will be very sorry to leave. However, I needs must return to my patrol. Things are amiss and I would make sense of them."  
  
Thorin steps up to you then, his hand reaching out to grasp your shoulder and forcing you to look at him as his voice drops to barely more than a whisper. "So stay the night and journey back tomorrow. Your road would be much easier going in the light of day and it would hardly set you back a few short hours." He clenches his jaw as he looks upon you and you can see his own hurt all too clearly in the deep pools of his eyes. "Only now you have returned to me after all this time... I have so much I would say to you and discuss with you. Please do not decline our hospitality .... Stay for a while."  
  
Dwalin the dwarf guard, as though reading all too well his King's distress, steps forth from the shadows and clears his throat to draw your attention to him. "If I may, Thorin. The lady's horse is in desperate need of at least a good few hours rest. And if he means as much to the lady as she says, then I do not think it would be wise for her to journey back tonight." His eyes flick up to you, "And if I may be so bold, madam, you look as if the rest would do you good yourself."  
  
You frown at him, feeling thoroughly backed into a corner and wondering how much pain and suffering your heart could endure in one day. Desperately searching for a way out of your predicament it was Gandalf who at last stepped forward to ruin any such plans of escape, obviously still deep in thought as he mutters quietly. "Master Dwalin is right. It would indeed be reckless to journey back tonight."  
  
"Mithrandir?"  
  
He looks up at you, his eyes coming back into focus and twinkling in the torchlight. "I myself am leaving tomorrow, anyway - and my business will take me back towards the Shire. If it pleases you, I will pass on your report to your men and let them know of your whereabouts so that you might rest here a while." He continues to gaze at you thoughtfully and meaningfully. "I believe it would do you good and that it might be for the best."  
  
You stare back at him, feeling thoroughly betrayed. But still, there was some sense to his suggestion and the part of you that longed to stay here with Thorin quickly won out. "Very well." You look back at the dwarf lord standing nervously before you and sigh quietly as you relent. "I will stay a while and gratefully accept your hospitality."  
  
Thorin exhales softly in relief, nodding and giving you a small smile before gesturing over to his head of guard. "Dwalin? Return the lady her effects. We have nothing to fear from her."  
  
Dwalin nods, seemingly happy that the situation had been so quickly resolved as he takes back the armful of weapons from the dwarf beside him and brings them over to you with a grin. You slump slightly in resignation and begin reattaching your sword to its belt before placing it back over your shoulder.  
  
"So. You're one of the Dúnedain?"  
  
You look up at him and nod, reaching out for him to hand you your axe. Still grinning he holds it out for you. "Know how to use that? Or is it just for decoration?"  
  
You can't help but suddenly smirk back at him as you hang it from your belt, nodding to the war axes slung at his shoulder. "Do you know how to use those? Or are they just for decoration?"  
  
He laughs heartily, handing you your hunting knives too. "I would say I'm competent enough."  
  
You tuck your knives into your boots and straighten up to eye him mischievously. "Maybe when I have a little more time you could give me a _demonstration_?"  
  
He bows low before you, his wide grin making his beard twitch. "It would be my pleasure. I have never fought a Ranger before. Should be fun."  
  
You chuckle wickedly, "Maybe you will regret being so curious."  
  
"We shall see."    
  
Thorin steps to your side and reaches out to offer you his arm, his face a pure mask of horror at the thought of you fighting with his head of guard. He throws a warning look in Dwalin's direction before turning his back on him and offering his other arm to Dis, who looked as though she was trying her hardest not to laugh at her brother's expression. You catch Dwalin's grin from the corner of your eye as Thorin leads you back towards the small company of his closest advisers and you wink at him, letting him know the challenge still very much stood.  
  
"You remember Dwalin's brother Balin of course?"  
  
You turn your attention back to the group as a stout old dwarf steps forward, still mostly unchanged except for his now snow white hair and beard. You release Thorin's arm and bow to him, "Indeed. Still the best story teller I have ever had the fortune to meet. It's a pleasure to see you again, Balin."  
  
Balin smiles warmly and returns the bow. "And you are still the best audience I ever had, my dear. Welcome home."  
  
"Thank you." You return his smile and focus your attention back to Thorin as he gestures to two younger dwarves amongst the party. "My nephews..." He points to the shorter blond haired one and then the younger dark haired one. "Fili, and Kili.."  
  
Both dwarves bow low in unison, "At your service, my Lady. We are honoured to finally be able to meet you in the flesh after hearing so much about you."  
  
You return the bow with a smile, touched by their courtesy. "And I at yours. The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you. Long have I desired to meet the new heirs of Durin, and glad am I to find that they rise far above and beyond my already high expectations."  
  
The two young dwarves colour at the compliment and bow low again, and Dis grins at them both with pride. Thorin snorts and eyes the two fondly for a moment before introducing the rest of his party. You greet each dwarf who comes before you courteously and patiently whilst trying desperately to remember each of their names, knowing all the while it would be in vain. As the last dwarf backs away with another muttered _'At your service',_ Thorin straightens himself up, raising his voice so that all the gathered dwarves might hear him. "We have spent far too long on pleasantries, and the evening is wearing on! Tonight is a night to be glad indeed, for we have two guests such as these halls have never seen. Let us make a celebration in their honour!" He turns to an extremely fat dwarf that he had only moments ago introduced to you, but of whom you had forgotten the name of already. "Bombur! Alert the kitchens! For tonight we feast!"  
  
The large dwarf bows low and waddles off as fast as his huge girth would allow him, his face a picture of barely disguised glee, no doubt at the thought of the feast that was soon to come.  
  
Thorin turns to you and offers you his arm again. "Come. Tonight you shall have my quarters. I have some small things to attend to, but I will show you the way so that you make take your ease before dinner." You incline your head towards him and let him lead you from the entrance hall as the others break up and make to go their separate ways, muttering excitedly about all they had seen and of the upcoming feast. You glance over your shoulder at Dis as Gandalf excuses himself, and she winks knowingly at you before joining her sons as they exit the hall.  
  
Alone with Thorin at last, you leave the entrance behind only to soon find yourself in an even bigger hall, where polished walkways spanned off in every direction as far as the eye could see and whose carved pillars rose high into the roof of the mountain and were lost amongst the flickering shadows. Eyes wide, you try to take in everything at once and gasp as you lean over the edge of the wide path you were traversing to peer down into the deep chasm below, only to find it lit with a multitude of flickering lanterns and torches, illuminating the many balconies and private quarters carved into the living rock itself. Your breath stolen at the sheer beauty of it you can only whisper in amazement. "Beautiful..."  
  
Thorin smiles softly, his grip automatically tightening on your arm as you lean even further over the edge for a better view. "It is but poor lodgings in exile...."  
  
You turn to look back at him over your shoulder in disbelief. "How can you say such things!? Rarely have I seen halls so fair!"  
  
He smiles again fondly and inclines his head as he gently but firmly guides you away from the precipice. "It is very kind of you to say so, but it makes me grieve that you did not get the chance to see Erebor." His smile dies and his lips press together in silent conviction as he gazes off into the darkness for a moment, seemingly lost in thought and talking only to himself as he mutters, "But maybe soon..."  
  
"My Lord?"  
  
Thorin shakes himself, coming out of his reverie. "It is nothing..." He sets off again at a leisurely pace, giving you the time to look about you and take in the sights as you walk quietly by his side. Uncomfortable with the silence, you cast around for something to say to ease the awkwardness that had never been there before but which was now almost palpable and far too apparent between you. Thorin's eyes continue to flick to your face as you wrack your brain for something to talk about and you squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny until at last he himself decides to break the ice.  
  
"You look just how I always imagined you would."  
  
You smile, grateful for the diversion. "Except fifty years younger, you mean?"  
  
He chuckles softly and you meet his eyes, surprised at the sudden difference in his bearing as his tender smile lights up his face and wipes away the hard years of care, leaving behind someone more familiar to you. "I must admit, that it was quite a surprise. But not an unpleasant one, I can assure you."  
  
You relax slightly, feeling a little more comfortable in the presence of this more familiar Thorin. "I am glad then, to have not disappointed you."  
  
He places his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I do not think that would ever be possible."  
  
"Even had I returned to you the old, silver-haired maid you were probably expecting?"  
  
His hold on your hand tightens subconsciously and a touch of sadness creeps its way back into his eyes. "Even then... Although I never expected you to return at all."  
   
He glances at you apologetically and hastens to explain himself when he sees your crestfallen expression. "I used to. Every day I prayed there would soon come one that would bring you back to me. But as the long years passed I lost all hope that I would ever see you again. I felt sure that you had settled down somewhere and grown old with a family of your own and had no need to return to mine."  
  
You swallow hard, your grip now almost as tight on him as his own was on you. "You're all the family I have. You and Dis. I would have always returned to you eventually. But maybe I was foolish to think you would have known that and should have returned sooner."  
  
He sighs sadly, "Maybe if I had looked deeper into my heart I would have known, but I was too afraid of facing the pain and darkness to try." He pats your hand gently in comfort, forcing a small smile back on to his face. "But no matter... You are here now .. And even though we may only have a short time together, at least the gods granted my wish and I could see you again."  
  
You fall silent as he leads you across an intersection and turns into a narrow torch-lit corridor, wondering at the meaning behind his words and why you would only have a short time together. He too soon falls back into a brooding silence as he leads you deeper into the mountain, and you find that the unease and awkwardness that had momentarily been cast aside falls back between you like a shroud.  
  
It wasn't until he at last came to a stop outside an ornately carved door in the rock that you attempted to break the silence once more. "It was very kind of you to invite me to dinner, my Lord. But I must crave your pardon that I have brought nothing suitable to wear. I rarely have the chance for merry-making as I usually spend most my time in the wilds and must travel light. If you will please forgive my appearance..."  
  
Thorin raises a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half smile. "I have spent the last seventy years hoping against all hope that this day would yet come, and you think I would be at all angered by the fact that you will not be suitably attired for dinner?" He laughs with some personal amusement and shakes his head as you colour slightly at his voiced sentiment. He squeezes your hand again when he notices your embarrassment. "If it means so much to you, I will ask Dis if she might be able to help, but do not fret over much. Your company is all I crave."  
  
You nod but avoid his gaze, your voice soft. "Then you will have that much, my Lord."  
  
"Why do you continue to insist on calling me that?"  
  
You look up at him in surprise, "Calling you what?"  
  
"My Lord."  
  
You stare at him dumbfounded. "But, what else should I call you?"  
  
He sighs softly, shaking his head. "What you always used to call me. Thorin."  
  
Your eyes drift to the floor, "I was but a child then. I did not understand rightly who or what you were. To me, you were always just a treasured friend. It is only right then, that I pay you the proper respect you are due now that I know better."  
  
He stands in silence for a little while, thinking over your words before speaking again. "You know, one of the things I loved most about you was that I could always be myself with you. I did not have to pretend or hide anything away, because somehow, you would always know if I did. With you, I didn't have to be a leader, or a heir to the throne, weighed down by responsibility. You freed me of that and allowed me to be just Thorin. It was one of the most precious gifts I have ever received."  
  
He runs his thumb gently over the back of your hand and turns to face you, his voice heavy with a quiet desperation you had never heard from him before. "Have things really changed so much between us that we can no longer hope to be that way again?"  
  
Your eyes follow the intricate design of the door as you try to quell the pain squeezing at your heart. "I would say nothing has changed between _us_.... _Thorin_. .... I would rather say that we _ourselves_ have changed and we can never again be the people we once were." You reach out slowly to catch one of the wayward silver stands of hair that ran in tiny rivers throughout the surrounding sea of black that crowned his head "Many long years have passed since last we were together and we have both grown."   
  
You smile sadly, your eyes moving to his as you tuck the strand gently back in place. "However, you remain the one who is the most dear to me in all the world, and no other could ever take your place. No matter how far I may have travelled, my feet have always brought me back towards home. And now I am returned, to you." You let your hand come to rest against his cheek, caressing it gently and revelling at being able to be this close to him again. " _Little shadow_ you always called me. And so I was... As I will always continue to be."  
  
He leans into your touch, breathing deeply, his eyes filled with so many questions and unspoken words that they burned with an intense fire that reflected down from the very depths of his soul. For a small while you stand like that, both seeking a comfort in the other that had been missing for an age.  
  
It was Thorin who was the first to break the moment and he sighs softly as he grasps your hand in his and brings it to his lips. "Forgive me, my love. Here I am tiring you further with musings better left alone or for later instead of letting you rest and freshen up after your long journey." He releases your hand reluctantly and searches his pocket for a small key which he then proceeds to turn in the door, letting the heavy stone swing inwards on silent hinges. He reaches out an arm, gesturing for you to step inside and you hold his eyes for just a second more before accepting the invitation and stepping over the threshold to gaze inquisitively around the spacious living quarters that he now called home.  
  
A smooth, polished floor stretched away before you, reflecting the light from the burning torches that were bracketed in various intervals around the large, oval shaped room. A carved mantelpiece was situated in one corner beneath which a fire glowed and burned low in its grate, illuminating the soft fur of the luxurious rug stretching before it. Curiosity piqued, you step further inside, bringing the rest of the room into view, and you gaze first at the colourful tapestries that hung from the walls, the finest of which depicted a single solitary peak at sunset and was hung above a large, ornate writing desk made of the finest cherry wood and on which were laid numerous scattered papers and scrolls of parchment. You smile softly as you look about you, your eyes passing over the velvet couch situated beside the writing desk and over to the far side of the room, where the floor opened out into a large balcony that no doubt looked out over the lantern lit chasm you had seen earlier from above.  
  
Awestruck by the beauty of the room you turn back to face Thorin, noticing as you did the doorway leading off to another smaller room, which upon closer inspection also contained its own fireplace, along with a large copper bathtub, a dressing table with matching carved closet - and the largest thing of all that took up most of the space, a huge bed covered in piles of soft fur.  
  
"Is the room satisfactory?"  
  
Thorin's voice, hesitant and unsure, sounds from behind you making you jump as you turn to face him, startled by his close proximity. He gazes at you steadily as you compose yourself and nod. "You have a very beautiful home."  
  
He smiles softly, looking slightly relieved as he brushes past you into the bedroom to throw a few more logs into the fireplace. "As I said before, it is but poor lodgings in exile, but I am glad you find it to your liking..." He stokes the wood gently until the new logs catch hold of the smouldering coals and a merry fire springs up in the grate, its flames quickly permeating the room with a comforting warmth. "I will have your saddlebags brought up to you and some hot water for a bath." He stands and returns the iron poker to a hook beside the mantle before turning to facing you. "Please make yourself at home, and I will return in a little while to escort you to dinner."  
  
You bow to him as he passes, "Thank you for your hospitality, once again."  
  
Strong fingers suddenly reach beneath your jaw and lift your chin gently, and you feel hot breath warm against your cheek as Thorin leans in to kiss your brow tenderly. "There is nothing to thank for. What is mine is yours."  
  
He releases you all to soon and smiles softly before carrying on towards the door. You watch him go, your heart hammering against your ribs and a million unspoken words on the tip of your tongue. "Thorin?"  
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"I - ...." He pauses with one hand on the door to look back at you, and you find yourself unable to tell him any of the things you had dreamt about saying to him for so long. "I -...."   
  
You chew your lip in frustration and shake your head, but he just smiles. "You know, I should really just start calling you _Askâd_ instead? Seeing as you are now actually bigger than me.."  
  
You laugh a watery laugh and he smiles wider at the sound. "Only by a little. And I still firmly believe, as I always have, that you could make even the largest being on earth feel small."  
  
He laughs appreciatively at your words and makes to close the door behind him, his voice tender and sincere as he takes one last look at you.   
  
"Welcome home, my love."


	5. Boundaries Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True love can not be found where it truly does not exist. Nor can it be hidden where it truly does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that turned out far longer than I expected. A bit angsty with some fluff and bad humour thrown in.

The smile had died on your lips the instant he had closed the door, and you had taken deep breaths in an effort to maintain the brave control on the emotion that you'd felt throughout the entire reunion. Your thoughts and feelings were a swirling, jumbled mess that pressed against your heart and left you reeling, threatening to overwhelm you at every opportunity - and you knew it was only a matter of time before you gave in to them and broke down completely.  
  
In search of distraction, you had returned your attention to the room and the chance to gain some small insight into Thorin's new life in Ered Luin. Walking around the comfortable quarters slowly, you had taken in every smallest detail before finding your feet drawn towards the wide balcony overlooking the very heart of the mountain itself. Here you had stayed, leaning against the carved, stone bannisters, whilst looking out at the multitude of star-like lanterns glittering in the darkness, enjoying the cooler air on your skin as you grappled with your emotions and tried to make sense of all you felt.  
  
You had always known that if this day should ever come that it would be emotional, but you still hadn't realised just how much. There had been many reasons as to why you had not returned to him sooner, but how could you ever look into his eyes and tell him the main? It would be better to have never returned than to leave heartbroken. As for the others, you could see now that many of them had been groundless - that he still very much held you in high regard, and that you obviously still meant a great deal to him. But that was both a comfort and a curse, for therein lied your problem. You knew your reunion was always going to be painful for you, but what you hadn't expected was for it to be as equally painful for him. You silently wonder if you had done the right thing and would it have not been better for you to have left well alone and leave him with the fading memories of the small child he had once known instead. Unbidden, the images of the blackened, burning fields before Erebor spring into your mind and you know then that there was no way that you could have avoided this any longer. If there was any chance that your premonition was true, then you would not let him face this peril alone. You owed him more than that. In fact, you owed him everything.  
  
A soft pounding interrupts your thoughts and you return to the door, pulling it open to reveal Dis looking very resplendent in a garnet red gown with strings of rubies glittering in her hair. She steps inside, her arms full of mounds of silk and lace in all the colours of the rainbow and carrying a tray of tea, whilst a dozen other dwarf women file inside after her, laden with buckets of steaming water which they carry straight through to the bedroom.  
  
"Thorin just said you might like something to wear for dinner, so I brought along a few things that might fit you!" She deposits the garments on to the couch along with a large, fluffy towel and you eye them apprehensively as the sounds of water hitting metal issue from the bedroom next door.  
  
"Dis? You've _got_ to be joking... Please tell me there are some pants and a shirt amongst all.... _that_?"  
  
She snorts derisively, placing the tray of tea on to Thorin's writing desk "Certainly not!"  
  
You break off your further protests as another dwarf knocks on the door and bows low to you, "Your saddlebags, my Lady."  
  
You thank him as he deposits the bags inside of the door and bows to you again before departing, soon followed by the dwarf women with their now empty buckets, who likewise bow to you and Dis before they too depart. Dis closes the door behind them impatiently and reaches for one of the dresses on the couch - a flimsy, velvet piece complete with embroidered bodice. "When was the last time you even wore a dress?"  
  
You shake your head, subconsciously backing away from her as she makes to hold it up against you. "That's just the thing.. I have _never_ worn one, and I am not about to start now."  
  
She raises a brow, following you across the room, her hands still outstretched towards you with the dress held firmly in her fingers. " _Never_? Well, I think you should at least do me the courtesy of trying it on."  
  
You shake your head stubbornly, still backing away. "Not going to happen."  
  
Her eyes narrow and she regards you with a steely glint. "If anyone ever mentions to me the stubbornness of dwarves again, I would like to introduce them to _you_. You have changed little in that respect, I see... But, if you're sure..." She tosses the garment back on to the couch and shrugs nonchalantly. "I just thought that seeing as you were being escorted to dinner by my dear brother, you would do well to look like a lady for once... I know he would have liked it too... But no matter..."  
  
You roll your eyes and groan, knowing that you stood no chance now and that she had you instantly beat. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be very manipulative when you want something, Dis? There was no need to fight quite so dirty."  
  
Her face splits into a wicked grin, and she shrugs again. "When you have lived all of your life surrounded by men as I have, you have to learn to fight dirty at every opportunity. Also, being surrounded by men means that you crave the opportunity to do something womanly every once in a while."  
  
"I understand. But perhaps I am not the best person for you to want to engage in womanly pursuits with."  
  
She grins wider and picks up another dress. "I'm sure I could change your mind."  
  
Your groan again, holding out your arms to the sides. "Fine. Just this once. For you. But don't ever tell me that I'm the only one who hasn't changed."  
  
She laughs, looking suddenly delighted as she holds the dress against you and eyes it critically. She crinkles her nose in distaste and tosses the gown aside, picking up another. Taking deep breaths to stop yourself from screaming at the thought of being made to wear a dress, you hold still while she goes through each one, ignoring your ever increasing looks of horror as the gowns become more and more elaborate.  
  
She looks up from the pale pink silk she was currently holding against you and sighs before tossing that one aside too and reaching for the only one she hadn't yet tried. "Maybe this one? Thorin does favour blue after all." She holds the midnight blue velvet against you and stands back to get a better view. "Hmm... Not bad... What do you think?"  
  
You gaze down at the soft velvet, unable to stop yourself admiring the way the folds on the skirt shimmered and tumbled down to the floor, falling in a pool around your feet. Delicate silver embroidering glittered along the dipped neck and hem, matching the glittering silver underskirt just visible beneath the blue. Dis grins at your expression and snatches the dress back. "I think we have a winner. It'll need taking in a little at the waist and the hem undone to lengthen it slightly, but I think it works."  
  
She begins to gather the other dresses up from the couch and pauses to look at you. "Go and get your bath before it goes cold. I just need a few things, I will be back in a moment."  
  
You roll your eyes again as she bustles back out of the door and quickly begin ridding yourself of your travelling clothes, feeling excited at the prospect of a hot bath. Naked and shivering you toss your dirty things into a heap on the floor before wrapping yourself in the soft, fluffy towel and heading into the bedroom. The copper bath had been situated in front of the now roaring fire, and an inviting billow of steam issued steadily from it. You discard the towel on to the bed and step inside eagerly, sinking down into the hot water with a moan of satisfaction. Stretching out your aching legs, you lean back and allow the water to cover you up to the neck before closing your eyes and listening to the silence for a while, letting the weariness drain away from your tired limbs. When the water began to cool enough to wash, you sat up and searched for soap, spotting a fragrantly scented bar hanging from a piece of string on the edge of the bath tub.  
  
It was just as you had just finished washing your hair that Dis finally returned. She shouts to you as she enters and moments later she walks into the room and deposits a large bag and the dress, now complete with matching blue velvet cloak, on to Thorin's bed and hands you a steaming cup of green tea. "Here, drink this. It'll help revive you."  
  
You thank her, taking the cup and laying back in the water as you take a sip of the hot liquid.  
  
"How is your bath?"  
  
You hum appreciatively as you watch her sit on the edge of the bed and take her sewing box out of her bag. "Heaven. I can not remember the last time I actually soaked in hot water."  
  
She smiles at you as she gathers the dress up into her lap and begins picking at the stitches on the waist with a bone needle. "I'm glad! We aim to please."  
  
You watch her work for a while as you drink your tea, admiring the sure way she unravels the stitching and begins to alter the dress to fit you, her needle flashing in the light of the fire as she sews the bodice back together. After a few long minutes of comfortable silence you decide to voice some of the questions swirling around in your mind. "Is he well, Dis?"  
  
She looks up at you without pausing in her stitching, a thin strand of blue thread caught between her teeth. "Who? Thorin?" When you nod she removes the thread from her mouth and continues. "He's very well, as you saw for yourself. Overjoyed to have you back. As am I, come to think of it."  
  
You smile softly. "As overjoyed as I am to be back with you...But that is not what I meant.. I was asking more how he has been since we were parted. He seems different somehow. More sombre and withdrawn, if that's possible." You frown, trying to put your concerns better into words. "I know he has been through a lot these past years. I have always kept an ear open for any news of you all and I suppose I just wanted to know how he is in himself, if that makes sense?"  
  
She mulls over your words for a moment as she works, eyeing the bodice of the dress in the light before moving on to the hem with a sigh. "Losing you hit him very hard. None of us could have ever foreseen that your bond would be so strong, or that it would affect him on such a profound level. He became much more withdrawn after that, choosing to bear the pain of it in silence rather than confide in anyone. Only those of us who know him well could see how much it hurt him to leave you behind. He hasn't ever really gotten over it."  
  
You stare into the white hot depth of the flames in the fireplace, clutching your cup so hard that your knuckles screamed in protest. "I am sorry."  
  
Dis looks up at you in surprise, shaking her head in earnest at your expression of intense pain. "No, no! I did not tell you that to hurt you! Nor do you have anything to feel sorry for! None of it was your fault, little one." She reaches out to brush your damp hair back from your face when your expression does not change. "I just told you so that you would understand how happy your return makes him. After the battle for Moria, he was beside himself with grief. For a while he was lost to us and we feared he would never return from the dark paths that his hatred and sorrow had led him on, but he did. He bore it all. And I think you are one of the reasons he did so. I think he got through that in the hope that he would yet one day see you again. He loves you. Always has."  
  
You fall into silence again as you think over everything she had said. A part of you grieved and burned with anger at the thought of all Thorin had suffered - some of it because of his affection for you. And yet, another part of you that had always thought your feelings could never be reciprocated, welled inside you, blossoming with new hope at Dis' words. Could it be?  
  
"It's stronger than ever, isn't it?"  
  
You shake yourself from your thoughts to look up and find her watching you, her eyes oddly perceptive. "What?"  
  
She smiles softly, still picking at the hem of the dress. "The bond you have with him. I see it in both your eyes."  
  
You nod, "For my part, yes."  
  
"And for him too, trust me." She readjusts the hem and begins to stitch again, gazing at you fondly. "Well it is definitely unprecedented, that's for sure. But I also envy it in a way. What you and he have is something very special, and for it to survive throughout the many long years of separation and emerge even stronger than before seems almost impossible. But it has."  
  
Your free hand absentmindedly toys with the silver ring at your throat as you watch her work, glad to finally be able to voice some of these most intimate things to someone who might be sympathetic to your plight. "I don't understand it though, Dis...I never have."  
  
"Oh? What is it you find confusing?"  
  
You shrug, looking for a way to put what you felt into words. "Something draws me to him without logic or reason, and I can not fight it no matter what I do - even though everything tells me that I should not feel this way about him ... When I lost my father, he ... I won't say _replaced_ him... But he eased the pain of his passing and became almost everything to me all at once - a father, a protector and a friend. He was all I had then, and losing him was excruciating beyond anything I could have ever imagined. It was like losing my father all over again, except somehow it felt worse because it was through choice. I also struggled to come to terms with our parting for so long, and I guess that I have never quite managed to succeed either, as he was all I thought of every single day. Sometimes I almost managed to convince myself that I had imagined him to be something more than he actually was - that the reason I had so placed him on a pedestal was because my childhood memories had been corrupted by time and altered into something else. But after tonight, I know that is definitely not true. I feel just as drawn to him as ever, if not more. And therein lies the problem."  
  
Dis casts aside her sewing for a moment and regards you with a look of pure sympathy and understanding. "What problem?"  
  
You pull yourself up into a sitting position and lean an arm on the edge of the bathtub as you turn to face her, desperate to get it all out now that you had started. "My feelings for him have changed."  
  
She raises a brow questioningly, "How s - Oh!..." Her realisation crosses her face and she suddenly gasps. "You love him?"  
  
You sigh and nod. "I have always loved him. But now it is something more. I have spent many years watching over him, shadowing him wherever he went to try and keep him safe without him ever realising. And at some point along the way I began to think of him differently. I don't know how or why it happened, and I certainly know I shouldn't feel this way about him, but it did and I do. I can't seem to rid myself of it. I know now for sure that he is everything to me and that I would truly do anything for him."  
  
She thinks over your words for a moment, her eyes shining. "I'm still not really seeing the problem. As I said, it _is_ unprecedented, but you shouldn't ever let that stop you from trying or hoping. A love such as yours should not be denied. You should tell him."  
  
You choke on a mouthful of tea and emerge from your cup spluttering and red faced, your eyes full of horror at the thought. "I couldn't do that!"  
  
She raises a brow, pulling your dress back into her lap and eyeing it critically. "Why not? You're more compatible than you realise and I think you would be extremely good for him."  
  
"I would never risk losing his friendship by revealing such a thing!"  
  
Dis shrugs, her needle flashing again as she continues to work. "He adores you too much to let something like that ruin your friendship, anyway. Surely you know that. Besides, there's a fair to large chance that he would feel the same way."  
  
You stare at her incredulously. "But that is the very problem! How could he? I have watched over him and seen him grow, but he has not had the same privilege as I. The last time we were together I was but a child and now he does not see the woman I have become, for the child I used to be is who he knows and loves. And he will regard me as such for a long while, no doubt."  
  
"I'm pretty sure he did notice the woman you have become. He couldn't take his eyes from you."  
  
You turn a deeper shade of scarlet and shake your head at her as she suddenly grins wickedly. "Besides, I promise you that by the time I am through with you, you will be left in doubt that he has indeed noticed."  
  
You sit back in your bathwater, your heart lighter at finally confiding your most intimate feelings to someone, but also struck dumb by her  teasing. She snorts at your expression and you scowl at her, wondering what schemes and lengths she would go to now that she knew your secret.  
  
To save herself momentarily from your ire and placate you, Dis decides to change the subject, her inquisitiveness apparent in her eyes. "You know, you still have not yet told me how you have fared since we last were together, and I am desperate to know! How long are you planning on keeping me in suspense?"  
  
You smile softly and lean over the edge of the tub to place your empty tea cup on the floor, glad of the distraction from her teasing as you begin to regale her with all that had befallen you since you had parted from her - and she listens with rapt attention as she puts the finishing touches to your gown. Eyes wide and mouth slightly open in amazement she hangs on your every word until at last you finish with the story of your journey to the Blue Mountains and of your return that very evening.  
  
She takes a deep breath as you fall silent and shakes her head incredulously. "What tales of your own you have to tell! Balin would have a fit if you told him half of what you have just told me!"  
  
You laugh softly at the thought of the old storyteller sitting in rapt silence even as Dis had, "Maybe I will tell him some of the more exciting parts one day."  
  
Dis smiles at the suggestion and jumps to her feet with a pleased exclamation. "There! It is finished! Now if you ever decide to get out of that freezing bath water we can try it on!"  
  
You roll your eyes and reach for the towel, so engrossed in your conversation with Dis that you had not realised she was quite right and that the water was indeed cold. You shiver slightly and stand before the fire as you dry yourself off, trepidation over her choice of dinner wear for you once again seeping back into your stomach. And there would be no escaping her this time. Before you even had chance to get fully dry or blink she had the billowing folds of material over your head. .  
  
"Hold still, will you?"  
  
You frown but stop struggling as she eases the material down over your hips and lets the skirt fall to the floor. "Now for the bodice..."  
  
She steps around behind you, her fingers brushing your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the thin cords that held the material together and beginning to tighten them one by one, making you feel like a goose being trussed for the table. "Oww.."  
  
"Stop being such a baby and hold still..."  
  
"But I can't breathe."  
  
You sense rather than see her roll her eyes, but she ties the cords a little looser nonetheless and you breathe a grateful sigh of relief. As she nears the top of your shoulders, she moves the hair away from the back of your neck and gasps, her gentle fingers tracing over the pattern of a tattoo etched into the skin there. "This is beautiful... What does it represent?"  
  
You smile softly and lean your head forward, affording her a better view. "Most of the Dúnedain have a tattoo representing their ancestry or heritage, and this is mine. The white tree is Nimloth, symbol of Númenór."  
  
She traces her fingers back along the branches of the tree and then along the seven stars that crowned it. "And I recognise the constellation Valacirca? Beloved of Dwarves, Elves and Men alike."  
  
"Even so."  
  
"And what's this?" She leans closer and turns you gently into the light to see better, her eyes softening as she instantly recognises the emblem. Her fingers trace the small hammer and anvil of Durin nestled between the scroll work roots of the tree and then move up to the crown just above, circling the small flower symbol etched into the front of the helm - the emblem of Thorin. You look back at her over your shoulder. "A symbol of my devotion to my extended family, and a promise to always serve and protect the line of Durin, to whom I owe so much."  
  
Stunned and slightly overwhelmed she blinks rapidly a few times before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. "Such a beautiful sentiment... You truly _are_ special, you know. Our kind seldom find true friendship offered from any but our own, and yours means so much to me .. And to Thorin."  
  
You rub at her back gently, touched by her words. "As yours does to me. And I will treasure it always and do anything to protect and preserve it."  
  
She nods into your shoulder and gives you one last squeeze before pulling back to look at you. "Look at us.. Thorin will be back at any moment and here we are still standing here gossiping like old maids!"  
  
You laugh as she turns you back around and quickly finishes tying up your dress, tutting in disgust at herself. "I haven't even started on you hair yet, either."  
  
The laugh dies on your lips as you wonder what other tortures she could possibly have planned for you.  
  
  
* * * * *  


A knock on the door a short while later interrupts Dis' ministrations and she lets the lock of your hair fall from her hands as she rushes to open it. You hear Thorin's rich voice as he enters the other room and smile wryly to yourself as you imagine his expression when Dis orders him to stay where he was until she had finished with you.  
  
Bustling back into the bedroom she sits down behind you and takes up the strand of hair she'd been braiding again as you listen to the heavy footfalls of Thorin pacing up and down outside. Pinning the last braid up on the back of your head she leans back to admire the effect before pulling something you couldn't see from her bag. "Now hold still while I finish this or you'll ruin it."  
  
You freeze in place, ignoring the ache in your back as she begins to twine something through your hair, pausing every so often to add another pin to hold the unknown object in place.  
  
"Dis!? What on _earth_ are you doing in there!?"  
  
"Just give me a minute! And don't you _dare_ come any closer to that door, Thorin Oakenshield! Or you will need more than Mahal to save you!"  
  
Thorin's boots pause in their stride near the door and you snort with laughter as Dis suddenly stands and pulls you to your feet. "There. All done." She stands back to admire her handiwork before withdrawing a looking glass from her bag and holding it in front of her so you could see yourself in it. "What do you think?"  
  
Looking in the mirror you raise a brow in quiet surprise. The luxurious material of the dress hung beautifully, displaying your form in the most flattering way imaginable and swaying delicately every time you shifted. You turn experimentally on the spot to view it from the side, revelling in the comfortable feel of the velvet against your skin and the way the embroidery shimmered and caught the light as you moved. She holds the mirror a little higher, affording you a view of your hair and you gasp. Intricate braids encircled your head like a crown, where they then joined to meet and weave into the longer hair that Dis had so painstakingly curled and pinned up on the back of your head. Between the braids, a string of dark blue sapphires in the same shade as your dress glittered and danced, making the overall effect both stunning and graceful.  
  
You smile, reaching up to gently touch one of the braids. "It's lovely, Dis. Thank you."  
  
She grins happily, reaching out to bat your hand away from your hair and straighten the material on your hips. "Are you telling me that you actually like it and that I have managed to change your mind about wearing a dress and having your hair done?"  
  
You laugh softly, reaching out to hug her. "I wouldn't go quite that far, but I have to admire your expertise in this area."  
  
"Good enough!"  
  
You laugh again, pulling back to look at yourself once more and examine the vast expanse of bare skin around your shoulders and collar bone. Your voice drops nervously, all too aware of Thorin standing right outside. "Are you sure it isn't too revealing?"  
  
Dis shakes her head, eyeing the dress once more with a critical eye. "Not at all. It suits you and you fill it very well."  
  
You colour instantly at her bold remark and she laughs as she holds up the matching mantle. "Besides, that's why I brought this. I didn't think pushing you too far on your first outing as a lady would be wise."  
  
You snort again in agreement as she drapes the cloak around your shoulders, holding it in place with a silver fastening carved in typical dwarven fashion. "And last but not least..." She pulls a pair of silken silver slippers from her bag and tosses them to you, waiting as you slip them on. "Perfect..."  
  
" _DIS_!!"  
  
"We're coming!!" She rolls her eyes and grabs her bag and your hand, giving you no time to prepare yourself as she drags you firmly into the other room. Thorin paces towards the fireplace, his arms folded and shoulders hunched. He turns when he hears you enter and misses a step, his face falling from an expression of utmost impatience to one of complete shock.  
  
Dis chuckles softly, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "Told you he'd notice."  
  
Your face burns scarlet, but Dis ignores it as she looks to her brother unabashed. "So, what do you think to her? Was this not worth the delay?"  
  
Thorin clears his throat, attempting to recover himself but seemingly unable to speak for the moment. Dis grins wider, delighted at seeing her usually sombre brother so flustered for once. She snorts and kisses you on the cheek as she shoulders her bag. "I think that means _yes_.. So, I'll leave you two to it. I left Kili and Fili with Bofur, and I've been gone an age. Who knows what kind of mischief they'll be causing? I'll see you at dinner!"  
  
You glare at her in panic as she stands on tiptoes to kiss her brother's burning cheek too, but she just smirks all the wider and waves happily as she slips out of the door and vanishes from sight before you can run screaming after her.  
  
Unable to avoid looking at Thorin forever, you bite your lip hard, ignoring the charged atmosphere between you and allowing your eyes to drift back to him, noting as you did that he also looked exceedingly handsome in an outfit of midnight blue and silver that almost matched yours. You groan inwardly when you wonder if that was not Dis' plan all along. It would be just like her to make this even harder than it was already proving to be.  
  
"You look .... _beautiful_..."  
  
Your eyes flick up to Thorin's only to see him looking at you as if seeing you for the very first time. Your face burns hotter at the intensity and sincerity evident in his eyes. "Thank you."  
  
He himself colours slightly at his own bold remark and shifts uncomfortably on the spot as he hastens to explain. "Not that you were not or are not always beautiful. Just that you look especially beautiful in this moment.." His face turns a shade deeper as he trails off, looking more awkward than you could ever have guessed it was possible for him to be.  
  
If you hadn't been so nervous yourself, you possibly would have found Thorin's utter discomfort as amusing as Dis had. However, it was all you could do to stay standing before him and not run and hide yourself in the deepest, darkest place you could find. "All thanks to your sister... There is no other that could ever have gotten me to wear a dress."  
  
"That's not entirely true... But I will make sure that I congratulate her later because the gown suits you very well.."  
  
You squirm uncomfortably under his gaze and fall back to an attempt at humour to try and ease the growing tension between you. "When you do, please do not overdo it. I would not want you to encourage her too much and have her subject me to more tortures than she already has."  
  
He grins suddenly and you sigh in relief, "Was it really that bad?"  
  
You nod earnestly, "You have no idea. I think I would rather battle a Balrog than your sister when she is in want of something."  
  
Thorin's laugh echoes around the room, banishing some of your nervousness and making you grin. "How well you know her. And I must say that I agree with you completely - but please try to forgive her. She loves you very much and seldom has any female company."  
  
You smile softly, "I know. And there is nothing to forgive really, because I love her just the same. But still...." You cross over to the wall near the couch and pick up your scabbard. ..."I'm not about to let her have it all her own way. I can only take so much lady-like behaviour in one day." You strap the belt around your waist and buckle your sword to it with a satisfying sigh. Thorin watches you with a wry smile as you reach for your axe and hang it on the opposite side of your belt, quickly followed by your silver hunting knife.  
  
"I won't take responsibility for this, you know. If she asks, I tried to stop you."  
  
You roll your eyes at him, "Fine. Coward. But if you're wearing your sword and axe then I want to wear mine."  
  
Thorin holds up his hands in surrender, still smiling. "I see no problem with it. You wear the sword well, like one of the Queen's of old ... I will just tell her you beat me into submission."  
  
You snort in amusement as you turn to face him. "I doubt she will believe that, Thorin."  
  
"Probably not, but it is worth a try." He holds out his hand for you to take. "Ready?"  
  
You adjust the belt slightly and nod, hesitating for only a second before reaching out to slip your fingers into his in a familiar gesture you used to know so well. "Ready."  
  
He squeezes your hand gently as he leads you from the room and you easily fall into step at his side, your heart lighter than air to see him looking so happy and content. You fall into a more comfortable and companionable silence as he leads you down passageways you had not yet seen, all of them sloping gently in an uphill direction. You try to memorise your way, but soon give up, knowing that you could probably end up lost forever in this maze of stone without the dwarf at your side. He smiles softly as his eyes flick to yours only to find you watching him too. "Almost there."  
  
He gestures towards a brighter light at the end of the tunnel and you squint momentarily as you exit into it. Once your eyes had readjusted to the new light you look around with interest to find yourself in a small hall with similar passageways to the one you had just left leading off it in every direction. You attempt to count them, but before you could finish your eyes catch sight of the large doors at the very end of the hall which were thrown wide open, allowing the warm light to spill out from the room within. A murmur of laughter and music comes from inside and you smile up at Thorin as he leads you towards it, already excited at the prospect of experiencing your first dwarven party.  
  
Thorin pauses just outside the doors to adjust himself, and your peer curiously inside. The largest hall you had seen in all your life spread before you, and hundreds of dwarves seemed to already be in attendance, seated at long wooden tables that spanned the lengths of all four walls. A large open space was left in the middle of the hall, only broken by the large fire that crackled and danced in the pit that was sunk into the very centre of the room.  
  
Thorin draws himself up straight, releasing your hand and offering you his arm in a more proper fashion. "Shall we?"  
  
You take his arm tightly and nod. "Of course."  
  
The noise in the room instantly falls away to a deathly silence as Thorin leads you over the threshold, with all eyes turning in your direction. Your gaze passes quickly over the sea of faces, spotting some familiar figures amongst the crowd, all members of Thorin's guard who had been present at your reunion earlier in the evening. A flurry of whispers break out amongst the gathered dwarves as they crane their necks to get a better look at you, having no doubt already been filled in on events by the very same dwarf guards and curious to know what kind of woman could inspire such emotion in their leader.  
  
Cheeks burning self consciously, you press closer into Thorin's side for comfort, chancing a quick look at him - your breath catching in your throat as you meet his gaze. Regal as the great kings of old he leads you deeper into the great hall, the lines of care and sorrow that usually etched his face now melted away in light of his new found happiness. But what touched you most of all was the expression of undeniable pride that shone brightly in his eyes; pride at having you by his side. As his eyes meet yours, you find your nervousness and self-doubt drifting away and a gentle warmth spreading through your body at the unmistakeable love you found shining in their depths.  
  
You straighten your shoulders and lift your chin proudly, now meeting the eyes of the ones staring at you, unafraid. Thorin smiles softly at your change in bearing and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You truly are beautiful... Look how they all watch you. I may have to fight for your honour before the night is through."  
  
You groan inwardly, the blush spreading to your neck as you lean in to whisper back. "Thorin, please. You're not helping."  
  
He chuckles softly, his eyes deceptively innocent. "What? I told nothing but the truth.."  
  
Your eyes narrow at his teasing and the wicked part of you rises up inside, crying out for revenge. "Really? Well, I'm not at all sure that they _are_ watching me, you know. You do look very handsome, after all. And judging by the expression on many of the women's faces tonight, maybe it is _I_ who will have to fight for _your_ honour.  
  
Eyes twinkling, he grins, wise to your game. "I have always said that dwarven eyesight is not what it was."  
  
You raise a brow, gazing at him with the most meaningful look you could muster. "Maybe. But there is nothing wrong with _my_ eyesight. And _I_ think you look very fine indeed."  
  
He colours instantly and you smirk in satisfaction at finally getting a reaction from him. He clears his throat as he tries to regain his composure, and eyes you shrewdly. "It seems I have underestimated you. You're _worse_ than my sister."  
  
You plaster the same innocent look on your face as he had only moments before, throwing his words back at him. "I told nothing but the truth.."  
  
His face breaks into an easy smile when he realises that he was finally beat, and you turn away from him at last to glance up at the top table. "Speaking of your sister..."  
  
Thorin follows your gaze to where Dis was seated with her sons, eyes narrowed in disgust as she glares at the sword belted at your waist. He chuckles at her murderous expression and squeezes your arm. "Remember. I tried to stop you, and you beat me into submission."  
  
You snort softly and shake your head as Thorin leads you towards the table, his beard twitching and trying desperately not to laugh as he pulls out the chair for you. As soon as he himself was seated on your right hand side, Dis leans across both the empty chair on the other side and then him to eye you indignantly, her voice an angry whisper. "What on earth are you doing!?"  
  
You gaze back at her innocently, caught between apprehension and amusement. "What?"  
  
She gestures over Thorin's chest at your sword belt. "This! So much for being a lady for once. You just had to go and accessorise, didn't you?"  
  
You let your face fall into an expression of shocked innocence, ignoring Thorin's amused grin. "But I need my sword!"  
  
She raises a brow, looking at you in exasperation. " _Why_?"  
  
You shrug, killing two birds with one stone. "In case I have to fight for Thorin's honour."  
  
Her mouth falls into a silent 'O' and she glances quickly up at Thorin's face as he suddenly turns puce once more and squirms uncomfortably in his seat. Her face splits into a knowing grin and she chuckles appreciatively. "Well, I guess I can live with that. Who am I to argue with a woman with such a worthy cause."  
  
You grin as she settles back into her seat, still chuckling and eyeing her brother with barely disguised glee. Thorin swallows hard, caught between the hammer and the anvil with no escape. He looks almost beyond relief when Gandalf enters the hall with Balin by his side, and gestures desperately for the pair to join you.  
  
After everyone was present and seated with Gandalf now to his right, and Balin to your left, Thorin rises from his chair and bangs on the table with the haft of his axe, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Tonight we celebrate our two honoured guests! So, let us cast away all our cares and labours for a while and make such a gathering that has not been seen in many a long year! Let us feast, let us song and let us drink and be merry until the sun rises! Let them remember forever the hospitality of our people!"  
  
The hall cheers in unison as Thorin returns to his seat and from somewhere towards the back corner of the room a fiddle begins playing a merry tune as the talk and laughter rises up to the rafters once more.  
  
The dwarves soon settled down to the serious business of eating, as only they could, and as the night wore on they became increasingly merry and boisterous, finding all their cares cast away in the bottom of their deep tankards. Your eyes were everywhere at once as you ate and drank your fill, the music growing ever louder as more and more dwarves took out their instruments and began to join in with whatever tune was being played at the time. Soon dwarf men and women got up to dance and the room was suddenly filled with a riot of colour from the multitude of swirling dresses. Beside you, Thorin's laughter rose up time and again, and the dwarves wondered at it and at the change in him. For that evening he seemed happier to them than they had ever seen him before, and it spurred them on to even greater lengths in the effort to entertain him. Relaxing back into your chair feeling pleasantly full and more than a bit merry with the wine, you watch as Dwalin starts some sort of arm wrestling contest between the guards and a group of others, their raucous laughter ringing out around the hall as the head of guard takes out one after another. An argument soon erupts when one of the contenders, bitter about losing no doubt, seemingly accuses Dwalin of cheating and refuses to pay him the price of the wager. As you watch Balin try solve the disagreement between his brother and the other dwarf, you had to admit they definitely knew how to throw a party.  
  
Warm fingers suddenly close over your own and you look up to find Thorin watching you with a soft smile. He gestures towards the exit with his head and you nod, rising from your seat to follow him quietly from the hall whilst everyone was happily distracted by Dwalin.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
Thorin leads you from the hall and towards one of the numerous passageways you had seen earlier on your way to dinner. He smiles and holds your hand tighter in his. "There's something I want to show you."  
  
You raise a brow but make no comment as you follow by his side, letting him lead you through a maze of corridors until you at last reach a wide stair cut into the rock. You glance at Thorin questioningly, but he just smiles and leads you onwards, patiently helping you with the steep climb as the stairway snakes ever higher into the mountain.  
  
After a small eternity of nothing but climbing you emerge breathless and hot on to a small landing with a single door leading off from it. You frown at it curiously as Thorin guides you up the last step and towards it. Pushing hard at the door, it swings inwards on invisible hinges and Thorin gestures for you to pass through.  
  
Intrigued, you step over the threshold and find yourself standing out on a wide ledge in the cool night air, your jaw dropping at the sheer beauty of the landscape that was suddenly revealed to you. The full moon that had lit your way earlier in the evening now hung lower on the horizon to the west, its pale silver light illuminating the vast forests a thousand feet below at the foot of the mountain. You step closer to the edge to get a better view, noticing a narrow pathway that led from the ledge and cut deep into the rock as it circled its way downwards around the mountain and out of sight - no doubt an emergency escape route for the people of Ered Luin should they ever have need of it. You breathe deeply and turn back to the view, the wind gently tussling at your hair as you look out across the rolling landscape of Harlindon. A strong arm encircles your waist as Thorin steps up to your side, his eyes soft as he gazes upon you. You press into his side for protection from the cool breeze and he draws you nearer still, holding you close against the warmth of him and pressing his lips to your brow as you rest your head against his shoulder.  
  
For a small eternity you stand that way, enjoying the peaceful intimacy with one another as you watch the moon sink ever lower in the sky and the stars fade as the sky turns from pitch to grey, signalling the approaching dawn. You sigh softly and pull back to look into Thorin's eyes. "Thank you for bringing me here."  
  
He smiles softly and reaches out to gently brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. "You're welcome. Although it was mainly out of my own selfishness."  
  
"How so?"  
  
He lets his hand come to rest against your cheek and gazes off into the night over you shoulder. "I just wanted you to myself for a little while - to spend what time I could with you before we must be parted again."  
  
Your fingers tenderly find his cheek and you turn him to face you, aware that the boundary you had drawn for yourself in regards to your love for him had to be forgotten for the moment in light of the subject you both knew needed to be broached. "How soon?"  
  
His eyes glisten sadly as he gazes down at your anguished expression. "Before the week is out."  
  
You stagger in his arms, having not realised it would be quite so soon. He runs his thumb across your jaw in comfort as you blink back horrified tears. "Fate has not been kind to us, my love. It seems as though we are always destined to be parted."  
  
You shake your head in disbelief, a grim determination turning your insides to ice as you remember Dis' words to you about opening up to him. "Fate is what you make of it." You let your fingers run softly through his beard as you look up at him again with pleading eyes. "You don't have to do this, Thorin. You have a new life here now. A good life. We do not have to be parted."  
  
He tears himself out of your grasp with a soft growl of frustration and pushes past you to stand upon the edge of the precipice, his whole body tense with anger and hurt. "Why do you tempt me so? Do you not think that if I could choose for myself that I would not stay with you? That I would not plead with you to never leave my side again so I could spend every day of the rest of my life trying to make you happy?"  
  
You flinch at his sudden outburst, your heart pounding in earnest at the meaning behind his words and at the realisation that he too seemed to have a boundary that he was apparently close to crossing. You put this new found knowledge to the back of your mind for later consideration and refuse to be cowed by his anger, drawing yourself up to your full height as you regard his back with eyes of ice. "There is no reason why you can not choose such a future."  
  
His fist clenches around the pommel of his sword, so tight you were sure it must be hurting him. "There is every reason! For years we have waited for our chance to take back Erebor, and now that time has come! I made the vow to return my people to their homeland! It is my duty as their leader!"  
  
You throw your hands up in defeat, "Fine. But if you want to head off on a suicide mission, then I'm coming with you."  
  
He whirls around to face you, his eyes full of horror. "That I could never allow."  
  
You raise a brow, your own temper rising like a thunderstorm and finally getting the better of you. "I wasn't aware that I was asking for your permission, Thorin Oakenshield. You see, I also made a vow - an oath to guard you with my life. And now the payment has come due, and the debt I owe must finally be repaid."  
  
He shakes his head in disbelief, working his jaw so as to be able to spit his words out. "Have you suddenly taken leave of your senses!? You think I made my promise to protect you and look after you lightly? Or in exchange for anything!?"  
  
You raise your chin and fold your arms, returning his glare unafraid as you remember Dis' other advice about fighting dirty. "That promise became no longer valid the day you left me behind in Bree."  
  
He staggers as though you had just slapped him, and a flash of hurt crosses his eyes. "So that is what you think? That I gave up caring for you? That I wouldn't fight to protect you with all I had even now?"  
  
You shrug, all too willing to hurt him now if it meant you could save him later. "No. I see in your eyes how much you still care for me. And it is because I care for you just the same that I am not willing to let you face this peril alone. You may have a duty to your people, Thorin. I understand that and accept it, even though I sometimes may not like it. But _I_ also have a duty. Even if I did not care for you as I do, I am  Dúnadan \- I have a duty to protect _all_ free people of Middle Earth and am quite within my rights to accompany you."  
  
His shoulders slump in anguish and he shakes his head again, truly agonised at the thought of you being put in any danger. You unfold your arms and step up to him, trying unsuccessfully to reign in your anger. "You forget that I too lost everything to the dragon - my home and my father. You're all I have, Thorin. I could not bear to lose you too." You bite your lip hard in a renewed effort to maintain control. "I made my decision as soon as I realised what you were planning, and I will follow you if I must. As far as I am concerned there is nothing more to discuss."  
  
He looks up at you, torn between anger and a deep sadness that reflected only too clearly in his eyes. "And how do you think I would feel if something were to happen to you?"  
  
You reach out to run your fingers down the length of one of his braids. "As I said. That works both ways. Besides, there would be far less chance of something happening to either of us if we were together."  
  
He sighs, grasping your hand in his. "I appreciate your sentiment, truly I do. But I can not be expected to look after you on such a journey. The road is long and treacherous enough without my having to worry about keeping you safe."  
  
You pull your hand back in rage, the temper which you had momentarily sought to bring in check now bursting forth once more with all the fury of a gale. "You think I _need_ your protection!? You think I have sat around a cosy camp fire and told stories with my kin for the last sixty years!? Do not do me the discourtesy of imagining that I am there to guard your people against wolves! There are things lurking in the dark outside your doors that you could scarcely imagine, and I have faced them all time and again. I am not a child anymore, Thorin! Do not treat me as such."  
  
You turn your back on both him and the view, striding purposely towards the door in the side of the mountain and down the winding stair. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footfalls as you descend ever lower until you at long last hit the landing and the corridor from which you came. You start to head down it, hoping suddenly you would remember the way and that you wouldn't get lost. But all too soon you hear heavier footsteps striding swiftly behind you and know that Thorin is following.  
  
"You're going the wrong way. My quarters are back in the other direction."  
  
You lift your chin and walk faster, your anger boiling your blood and setting your nerves on fire. "I am not going to your quarters."  
  
"Oh?" Thorin's surprise was apparent in his voice as he catches up to you and falls into step at your side. "Where are you going then, may I ask?"  
  
You clench your fists at your sides, refusing to look at him. "I was under the impression there was a party going on?"  
  
He falls silent as you navigate your own way through the myriad of passages, seeming almost as surprised as you yourself when you manage to find your way back without hardly any problem or hesitation. You turn into the main hall to be greeted by a chorus of drunken singing and dancing, your eyes searching out the one you needed. Dis extracts herself from the arms of Bofur with whom she was dancing a merry jig, and bounds up to you. "There you are! We wondered where you'd go -" She breaks off at the look on your face and then that of her brother, her eyes narrowing questioningly. "Whatever is the matter!?"  
  
You shrug without pausing in your stride towards the far table. "Mr Dwalin!"  
  
You unclasp your cloak and let it fall from your shoulders as you loosen the axe in your belt. The noise in the hall drops and then falls silent as all eyes turn to you once more, striding angrily through their midst with red face and axe raised. Dwalin downs his tankard of ale and sits up as you approach, his own expression turning to one of confusion as you stalk towards him. "My Lady?"  
  
Thorin, suddenly guessing your plan, grasps your arm and pulls you around to face him, a slight panic filling his eyes. "Please don't do this. You have nothing to prove to me, or to anyone."  
  
You raise a brow and squirm out of his grip, your need for wanton violence drowning out every other feeling. "Obviously I do."  
  
You turn your back on him once more and face the head of guard who was watching the exchange with his mouth slightly open. You take a step towards him, holding your axe ready. "It seems that I have time for a demonstration after all. That is, if you do?"  
  
Dwalin's face splits into a grin and he instantly reaches over his shoulder for his own axes, but a single look from Thorin stops him in his place. Your eyes narrow challengingly, "Or are you too much of a coward to fight a woman?"  
  
"Sorry, Thorin. Can't let _that_ stand.." He glances apologetically towards his friend as he steps around the table towards you. "Are you sure you want to fight in that gown?"  
  
You shrug nonchalantly, adjusting your grip on the haft of the axe. "I'll manage."  
  
He grins as he walks by the wall and gestures to one of the decorative shields that hung there. "Be careful not to trip over your skirts then, little princess."  
  
"You are determined to open yourself up to a world of pain, Master Dwalin." You shake your head at the offer of the shield, your free hand sliding down to the pommel of your sword and gripping it tightly.  
  
"I'll take my chances."  
  
You raise a brow as he finally comes to a stop, facing you. "Don't hold back."  
  
He chuckles wickedly and readies his axes. "It's not in my nature."  
  
You turn to face him and withdraw your sword, ignoring the whispers that rose up from the gathered dwarves as they view the strangeness of your blade, even as you ignore the gaze of the dwarf king as it burns into the back of you neck. All around you murmurs rose up along with flashes of gold as the dwarves sized up the odds and made their wagers. Blanking them all out you instead concentrate on your opponent, looking for any signs of weakness from which to gain an advantage, of which there were few. That's why you had chosen him, of course. He was strong and well built, and as head of Thorin's guard he had to be the best warrior amongst them. Who better than him to test your skill against?  
  
Dwalin begins to circle you and you match his step, keeping the distance between you while the whole hall holds its breath, waiting for the first strike. It was Dwalin who impatiently broke the deadlock first, crossing the distance between you with a cry and swinging his axes full circle with all the power he could muster. You watch him come at you as if in slow motion, waiting until the last possible moment before moving. You dodge the first axe with ease and block the second with your sword, the sound of metal on metal ringing loudly throughout the hall as your weapons meet for the first time. The force of the blow makes you stagger slightly, and Dwalin presses his advantage as he swings his left axe again towards your chest. You dodge the blow nimbly and retreat a small distance to recover.  
  
Dwalin grins and you incline your head, acknowledging his attack. Grasping your sword more firmly and readjusting your grip to better deal with his power, you study him more intently than before. It had been just as you thought. Dwalin relied on sheer force and his brute strength to fight, which meant he would also be slower and less agile than yourself. You raise your sword to show him your readiness and decide to test out your theory. Dwalin charges you again, this time bringing his axes down low towards your legs, but now you were ready for him. Again you skip aside the first axe and jump over the second, letting Dwalin's own momentum take him behind you before turning on the spot to bring your sword arching down towards his back. He turns at the last second, blocking your blow with the handle of his axe, his eyes wide at the speed with which you had countered. You laugh grimly at his expression and instantly launch into a swift series of attacks that give him no time to prepare and have him backing away as he clumsily attempts to block each of your blows.  
  
Surprised at the sudden intensity of your offence he blocks the last blow and takes a few steps back to regain some distance from you. You circle him once more, your expression that of a hungry predator and the lust of battle shining like fire in your eyes. He frowns, seeming extremely disgruntled that you were not going to make this as easy for him as he had thought. "You fight like an elf."  
  
You shrug, determined not be affected by his attempt at insult. "And you fight like a little girl. Now, if you're done talking.."  
  
He glares at you and charges again, advancing swiftly, making to strike your left shoulder. Again you let him make all the effort, bending back on yourself at the last moment and allowing the axe to fly over you, feeling the slight tingle on the naked flesh of your collarbone as the deadly metal passes within an inch of your skin. The surrounding dwarves gasp and mutter admiring exclamations as you straighten up in a whirl of colour and spring back towards him, sword swinging towards his chest. Such was the speed with which you moved that Dwalin did not have time to readjust the grip on his axe to counter. He blocks your blow with the right, but in doing so leaves his left side open and vulnerable to attack. You whip around, your skirts twisting around your legs as you thrust your sword with deadly precision and send the second axe in his left hand spinning through the air to land with a loud clatter on the floor a few feet away.  
  
You step back to let him recover and bow low to him, gesturing to his fallen axe with the tip of your sword. He shakes his head, panting for breath, his remaining axe now gripped tightly in both hands. For the sake of honour and an even match you lower your own axe and return it to your belt, choosing to fight with the sword only.  
  
Dwalin nods in admiration for your sportsmanship and begins to circle you once more, looking for any opening which he could exploit. He suddenly strikes out at you with a series of heavy, looping blows which you block easily on the flat of your blade before launching a renewed attack of your own. As you dance back and forth across the hall, you had to admit to yourself that he was one of the best warriors you had ever faced. Even the hard training you had received over the course of many long years could not help you best him. You were perfectly matched in every sense, and you could not help but admire his skill.  
  
Wondering how to go about beating him, your eyes fall to Thorin, now seated once more at the high table with Dis and gazing at you as though he would like nothing better than to rush into the middle of the hall and pull you out of harms way. As your eyes meet his, you let your concentration slip for a fraction of a second and Dwalin takes full advantage of your mistake. You manage to block his first strike at the last moment, but in doing so you leave him the smallest opening which he exploits to the full.  
  
You freeze instantly, your breath catching as you feel the cold metal of the war axe against your throat and look up to find Dwalin gazing down at you with a huge grin of relief on his face. "I win."  
  
You smirk back at him mischievously and gesture downwards with your eyes. He follows your gaze, his own eyes widening comically as he spots your large hunting knife placed precariously between his legs. He swallows hard and looks back up at you with an expression of shock tinged with mild admiration. "Shall we call it a draw this time, then?"  
  
You give him your sweetest smile and nod in agreement, waiting until he slowly removes the axe from your throat and lowers it down by his side before withdrawing your knife from his prized assets. He takes a deep, shuddering breath of relief as you tuck the knife into your belt and step back from him. The dwarves in the hall all rise to their feet as one, clapping and cheering, amazed by the level of skill they had just witnessed from both.  
  
You nod to Dwalin in thanks for the contest and turn to find Thorin's relieved eyes on you as he moves out from behind the table and towards you. You take a step forwards to meet him but Dwalin's voice stops you in your tracks. "I still think you fight like an elf."  
  
You loose your axe from your belt and spin on the spot, letting the weapon fly from your hand before he even has time to blink. It whistles through the air to embed itself firmly between his feet and his eyes nearly leave their sockets in surprise. "Not always."  
  
He stares at you dumbstruck for a few moments, trying to catch his breath before breaking out into a deep, bellowing laugh that echoes from the walls and up to the rafters. The rest of the dwarves cheer and join in with his laughter as he glances over at at Thorin, his eyes shining. "I like her, Thorin. You can keep her."  
  
Thorin smiles softly at his friend, his face still deathly pale and looking as though he was about to be violently ill. Dwalin pulls your axe out of the floor and hands it back to you. You nod in thanks, returning it to your belt and then withdrawing your sword once more as you walk over to where Thorin awaited you. The gathered dwarves again fall silent as they all stop to watch this new turn of events, but you block them out as you face him unsmiling for a moment and then drop to your knees before him. Letting your sword rest upon your open palm, you turn it over so he can see clearly the silver runes etched upon the black blade. His eyes soften in realisation as you lock your gaze on his and hold it up to him, offering it as a sign of your loyalty and devotion to him. He stares down at you for a small eternity, his expression torn, and you lower your voice so that only he could hear. "Will you insult my honour, my Lord?"  
  
He reaches out hesitantly, pausing unsure for a moment before his trembling fingers finally close around the hilt of the sword and lift it from your hand. "Never. ....You fought well."  
  
He reaches down to grasp you gently under the arm, pulling you to your feet, and you stare back at him as he gazes with a burning intensity into your eyes. You bow your head to him as he releases your arm, ignoring the electrifying current that permeated the air between you as with a last look at him you turn on your heel and stride out of the hall.  
  
  
* * * * *  


You storm back into Thorin's quarters and heave the door closed with a satisfying bang. Wincing at the dull pain beginning to throb behind your eyes, you begin pacing before the fire for a while, taking deep breaths to calm the temper which seemed to now be permanently boiling just beneath the surface. - A temper that had not been helped by the fact you had gotten lost a few times on your way back to Thorin's rooms and had to retrace your steps more than once before finding the right path.  
  
Banishing the infuriating thought of Thorin from your mind for a moment you begin to unpin your hair, hoping to ease some of the pain now spreading to your temples.  
  
You place the pins on the mantle as you let the braids loose one by one, leaving only two at the front as you let the rest of your hair fall free across your shoulders. Feeling a little better you reach around your back, fingers blindly searching for the first fastening on the bodice of your gown. You growl in frustration when you feel it just out of reach, not hearing the door behind you until it suddenly closes softly.  
  
You jump slightly at the noise but refuse to turn around, knowing all too well who it would be. The sound of metal being laid on wood reaches your ears as Thorin rests your sword upon his writing desk before approaching you.  
  
"I have never seen such swordsmanship."  
  
You stare down into the glowing embers of the fireplace and say nothing. He sighs when you refuse to look at him or respond to his attempt to make amends.  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
His voice hardly a whisper, you feel the sudden heat emanating from him as he steps up close behind you. Still angry with him, you concentrate on breathing deeply, remaining silent for fear of saying something else you might later regret. You startle then, your heart skipping a beat as his fingers reach out for the laces on the back of your dress, and soon the overbearing tightness of the bodice gives way as he slowly begins to untie and loosen the thin cords one by one.  
  
"I shouldn't have lost my temper. Especially not with you."  
  
Still you make no reply, sure you had to be terrifyingly close to that forbidden territory right now - and you hold perfectly still, forgetting to breathe altogether as he continues to loosen the cords, revealing the bare expanse of soft skin along your back. Your heart dances erratically as his warm fingers softly trace the tattoo etched across the back of your neck and you tremble at the touch, closing your eyes. He hesitates as you shiver beneath his fingertips, seeming to lose his nerve as he returns his attention to your dress instead. His hands move with more purpose now, reaching ever lower towards your waist before he finally loosens the last tie and takes a step back from you. Clutching the bodice to your chest you turn slowly to face him and you could see by the burning intensity in his eyes that he too was well aware of the invisible boundary he would cross if he continued in this manner.  
  
You clear your throat softly and quickly brush past him to retrieve one your saddle bags. His eyes follow your every move as you search out the correct bag and stalk off towards the bedroom. He sighs and removes his sword and axe before dropping on to the couch, closing his eyes in an effort to control his own emotions.  
  
Inside the bedroom you drop your bag on to his bed, your skin still burning from his touch as you search through it for your clean black shirt and pants. Disarming and then letting the dress fall to the floor for a moment you step out of it and slip the more familiar attire on its place, sighing in relief and revelling in the comfort your own clothes brought you.  
  
Bending to pick up the discarded gown, you hang it on Thorin's closet and step out into the living room to return your bag to the pile of others on the floor. Thorin looks up from the sofa as you enter, his eyes appraising your new attire. "I do not want to quarrel with you any more."  
  
You toss your bag on top of the others with a shrug. "Then give me what I want."  
  
He shakes his head, stretching himself out on the couch in frustration. "I can not."  
  
"Then we will continue to quarrel until you either do, or I follow after you regardless. You should save yourself the trouble."  
  
He groans as he looks over at you. "There is a very big chance none of us may return from this.."  
  
You turn to face him, your expression deadly serious. "Then I would gladly die by your side."  
  
He swallows hard, and shakes his head in horror at the thought. "Do not say such things."  
  
You sigh, your extreme exhaustion catching up on you and cooling your hot temper - too tired now to stay angry with him. You walk over to the couch and sink to the floor beside it, leaning your head against Thorin's leg as you gaze up at him earnestly. "I'd sooner die with you than without you."  
  
His eyes water with unrivalled emotion and he reaches out to stroke your hair softly. You lean desperately into his touch, feeling suddenly reckless and not caring much anymore for correctness. "Stay with me tonight?"  
  
He takes a deep breath and curls his finger around a strand of your hair. "I can not. I think we have been subject to more than enough gossip for one day."  
  
You raise a brow at him questioningly. "Since when did you care for idle gossip? It is the pastime of old maids with nothing better to do."  
  
"True. But as you said, you are no longer a child. It would not be proper."  
  
You roll your eyes at him in annoyance, "What care I for what is proper and what is not?" You lean back and reach for the buckles on his boots, slim fingers struggling a moment with the tough leather strap until you finally get it undone and begin to tug the offending boot from his foot.  
  
He raises a brow but makes no attempt to stop you, his expression now one of mild amusement as he watches you. "You would set propriety at naught, then?"  
  
You smirk suddenly as you unstrap the second boot and begin to pull that one off too. "I care not for propriety either. I care for getting a good night's - or should I say morning's, sleep. Which I have only ever done with you."  
  
His eyes soften at the sentiment as you begin to pull off his socks. "You will be the death of me, you know."  
  
You laugh softly, "Better me than incineration by angry dragon."  
  
Despite himself he smiles, his beard twitching. "That would be debatable."  
  
Done with his boots and socks you sit back on your knees to gaze at him with a wicked glint in your eye, "Do you want me to finish undressing you, _my Lord_... Or can you manage that yourself?"  
  
He laughs then and your heart skips a beat at the sound, "I find I am far too comfortable to move, and that I was rather enjoying myself watching you do it."  
  
"So I see. Have it your way, then." You push yourself to your feet and grab his hand, putting all your flagging strength into pulling him up from the sofa. He laughs harder still when all your effort is in vain and you can't even move him an inch from his relaxed position. You scowl at him in annoyance and he shakes his head in now complete amusement. "Come here." He tugs back at your hand, easily pulling you off your feet to land hard against his chest. The breath leaves your lungs and you huff as you collide with the unyielding mass of muscle beneath you. His shoulders quake with silent laughter again as he wraps his arms tight around your waist and pulls you close. "How is this for propriety?"  
  
All to aware of his body now pressed firmly beneath yours, you swallow hard, attempting to keep a hold on your light hearted and jovial façade. "Perfect."

To prove a point, you shift slightly in his arms to get more comfortable before laying your head against his chest - listening as you used to the sound of his strong heartbeat. He sighs at the familiarity as your hand reaches out to grasp one of his braids tightly and he presses his lips softly to your brow as he relaxes beneath you. "I remember so clearly the first time I held you like this."  
  
You hum in agreement against his chest, your eyes heavy with exhaustion and your anger melting completely away in his strong embrace. "As I remember so clearly every night afterwards when you held me like this."  
  
He nods, lifting a hand to lose it in your hair. "You always seemed so small and fragile in my arms. And the way you would cling to me broke my heart."  
  
You lift your head slightly to gaze up at him, the sadness in his voice surprising you from your sleepy haze. "I clung to you because I needed you... And though I may not be quite so small or fragile anymore, I find I still need you just the same."  
  
He watches you with soft eyes, his hand falling from your hair to rest against your cheek. "When was the last time you were held like this?"  
  
You stare back at him, your heart thudding heavily in your chest as you see the deeper meaning behind the question all too clearly in his eyes. Your cheeks colour slightly, but you ignore their burning as you hasten to comfort him and put his heart at ease. "Seventy years ago... For how could I ever again find comfort in the arms of another after I had known yours?" He smiles softly, stroking the blush on your cheek and seeming reassured as you return the question to him. "And you?"  
  
"Seventy years ago.... For how could I ever again find love with another after I had known yours?"  
  
You exhale gently and lean in to kiss his cheek as you settle back against his chest. His hand returns to stroking your hair as he sighs wistfully. "How cruel a mistress fate is that she brought you into my life only to then take you away from me at the very first opportunity."  
  
"Have you ever thought that is maybe not what fate intended at all? Rather that she gave us both someone to care for us and look after us when we need it the most."  
  
His lips ghost softly across your brow again, his breath warm and sweet against your face. "You always had the most beautiful outlook on life, even though it has treated you cruelly."  
  
You smile and hum in agreement, stifling another yawn against his chest, hardly able to keep your eyes open.  
  
"When was the last time you slept?"  
  
You frown as you try to remember, but the last few days had become a blur of excitement, emotion and exhaustion. "The day before yesterday. I think."  
  
He raises a brow in surprise, his grip on your waist becoming tighter as he pulls you closer to him, enveloping you in the comforting warmth that you had yearned for. "I'm sorry. I did not realise your fatigue. Sleep now, dear one. I've got you."  
  
You smile at his echoing of the words he had spoken to you on your first night together and snuggle deeper into his arms as he begins to hum softly under his breath. You yawn again as you place your head back over his heart and let your eyes flutter closed at last. "I'm not too heavy?"  
  
He pauses in his humming of your customary lullaby. "You never were."  
  
"I have missed you, Thorin."  
  
"And I you, my love. Sleep well."


	6. Against All Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One and One still is One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just always seem to turn out longer than expected. A bit angsty, with toppings of fluff. There's also a special guest and kiss in here somewhere! :O

"Thorin..."  
  
Comfortable and warm, you sigh softly and roll over, subconsciously reaching out for him, only to frown in drowsy confusion when your arms find nothing but empty space. You blink rapidly, waking from a deep and peaceful slumber to find yourself lying in the middle of Thorin's huge bed and surrounded in a swathe of fur blankets. Sitting upright you squint sleepily about you, wondering how you had managed to end up here. "Thorin?"  
  
Greeted with nothing but silence you carefully push aside the throws and climb out of bed with a yawn, your now bare feet padding across the smooth, marble floor as you enter the living room in search of him, only to find that empty too. Gazing around for any sign of his whereabouts your eyes fall to a large silver tray resting on his writing desk that contained a platter of assorted meats, fruits, bread and a smooth piece of parchment on which a short note had been written in a flowing script. Frowning, you pick up the parchment and begin to read;  
  
 _My love,  
_ _Please forgive my absence.  
I had some matters to attend to, and I did not want to disturb you from your rest.  
Tea is on the hearth and there is clean water on the dresser.  
I will return soon.  
Forever yours,  
Thorin.  
  
_ You sigh softly to yourself in disappointment at not waking with him and set the note back on to the tray, heading off instead to retrieve your saddlebags from their spot on the floor before searching out the wash bowl.  
  
When you were suitably refreshed, with the sleep washed from your eyes and hair brushed into a soft cascade around your shoulders, you make a quick breakfast from the platter he had left for you and follow it down with a cup of hot tea from the pot on the hearth. Finally finished with your meal and still with no sign of Thorin's return, you quickly come to a decision. Strapping your belt around your waist, you search high and low for your sword, frowning softly as you are unable to locate it anywhere in either room. Assuming Thorin must have taken it for some reason or other, you pick up your hunting knife before slipping out of the door in search of him.  
  
Wandering aimlessly through the identical passageways with no clue as to where you were headed, you soon begin to wonder if it might have not been better to wait for him to return after all,  instead of losing yourself somewhere in the mountain with no hope of ever finding your way back. Your feet carry you out of yet another corridor, indistinguishable from the many others you had now traversed, and into a small hall that you had never seen before. You look about you in frustration, feeling slightly panicked and at being so hopelessly lost and unused to the feeling. As you were contemplating trying to retrace your steps back to Thorin's apartments, footsteps sound from behind you and you turn sharply, sighing in relief as a stout red-headed dwarf steps out from one of the many tunnels leading from the room. You hail him quickly and he bows low to you. "My lady?"  
  
You return the bow, your relief apparent. "Forgive my troubling you, but it seems I am quite lost and in need of directions."  
  
He straightens up and eyes you with a delighted smile. "Then allow me to be of service! To where are you headed?"  
  
You laugh softly and shrug. "I have no idea. I was searching for Lord Thorin."  
  
He smiles wider, his merry eyes twinkling. "Then you would do best to go to the forge. I saw him heading that way earlier, and no doubt he will still be there." When you look as confused as ever, he gestures to a passageway behind you. "Allow me to show you the way. It is not far."  
  
You nod at him gratefully, following him along the narrow sloping passage as he begins to lead you deeper into the mountain. "And to whom should I be so thankful to for rescuing me from my predicament?"  
  
He laughs a deep laugh and inclines his head towards you. "My name is Gimli son of Glóin, madam. At your service!"  
  
You smile at his easy manner and return the nod. "And I at yours. Tell me, master Gimli. Did I perchance meet your father yesterday amongst Lord Thorin's company?"  
  
He grins as he takes a right turn at a fork in the passage. "Indeed you did, madam. He will accompany Thorin on his quest, for they are kin." He sighs suddenly, "How I wish I might join them."  
  
"You _want_ to go?"  
  
The dwarf nods earnestly. "Yes. But they tell me I am far too young." With a shake of his head he begins muttering something under his breath that sounds oddly like ' _sixty two_ ' and ' _not a child_ '. To distract him from his obvious disgruntlement and out of your own interest, you question him instead regarding his earlier remark of his father being kin to Thorin. Gimli's demeanour soon brightens as he launches into an enthusiastic explanation of dwarven ancestry, starting all the way back from Durin himself - much of which you had already learned in previous history lessons. But you listen intrigued as he also begins to explain some of the dwarven marriage and family customs to you, and you find yourself learning many new and secret things from the young dwarf that only one his kind would know.  
  
Approaching a bend in the tunnel a blast of hot hair suddenly breezes past you, ruffling your hair as it swirls around the corner. Gimli's happy chatter dies on his lips and he turns to you with a smile. "The forge."  
  
"Not far indeed."  
  
You exit the tunnel to find yourself in a enormous cavern that spanned the heart of the mountain. Huge furnaces glowed at various intervals, making the air stiflingly hot and dense. The sound of hammers striking metal echo from all around the cavernous room as the numerous dwarves laboured away at the many work stations that dotted every inch of the floor. A large armoury spanned away to your left, where racks upon racks of beautifully crafted axes, swords and armour hung gleaming, ready to outfit an army of many thousands if the need should ever arrive. Beyond the armoury was a space set aside, and judging by the small group of dwarves practising their axe work, it was primarily used for testing out the new weapons as well as for sparring and training. Beside you, Gimli stands on tip toes to peer around the room and then gestures over to a furnace in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the hall. "There."  
  
You follow his gaze and see the small yet unmistakeable figure of Thorin leaning over a wooden bench, seemingly hard at work as he converses with the old Wizard stood beside him. You smile at Gimli in sincere gratitude. "Thank you kindly for helping me and showing me the way. And also for the conversation. I am in your debt."  
  
He bows low to you and returns the smile. "It was mine pleasure, my Lady. If you should ever have any further need of assistance, or a sudden urge to learn more about dwarven history, do not hesitate to seek me out."  
  
You laugh softly and nod. "I may just take you up on that offer, Master Gimli."  
  
He grins, "You would be more than welcome at any time. Or if you should ever wish to spar, it is not only the guard that know how to use an axe."  
  
You raise a brow and he grins all the wider, his beard twitching. "I saw you at the feast last night. You fight well. It would be an honour to spar with you if you were ever in need of a partner."  
  
You chuckle softly at his eagerness, "I will bear that in mind, thank you!"  
  
Your eyes search out Thorin again and your smile dies slightly as you watch him have some kind of heated discussion with the grey wizard. His arms gesturing wildly, he returns to his workbench and the old man shakes his head, seemingly frustrated by whatever Thorin was saying.  
  
"I wonder what that's about?"  
  
You shrug and glance quickly over at Gimli who looks just as confused as you yourself, watching as Gandalf leans closer to mutter something quietly into the dwarf king's ear. Thorin nods once and the wizard, seeming a little more satisfied, leaves him in peace and begins to make his way over to you.  
  
The old man's expression changes to a warm smile as he notices your presence and he quickens his pace to reach you, the dirty grey robes flapping around his boots as he walks. "My lady! I hope you are well and feeling better refreshed today?"  
  
He bends swiftly to kiss your hand and you can't help but smile. "I am very well rested, thank you. And you?"  
  
"As well as I can be for my age. Rheumatism, you know."  
  
His keen eyes twinkle and you chuckle softly as he hails the young dwarf beside you before straightening up and eyeing you both thoughtfully. "I am about to take my leave of these halls and journey back to the Shire. As I recall, you have a message you would like me to deliver, lady?"  
  
You nod and glance apologetically at the dwarf beside you as you launch into a rapid stream of elvish, finding Gimli's expression of shock and distaste for the language almost comical as he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. "If you could tell my men my whereabouts, and also that the king is set to leave his halls before the week is out. I would have them watch around the roads south and east for signs of anything unusual until then - and I will join them as soon as I can discover exactly what Lord Thorin's course of action is."  
  
Gandalf nods, his pale eyes still fixed thoughtfully on you as though trying to work something out in his mind. He stays silent for just a second longer and then the expression is gone just as quickly as it had come. "Very well. I will relay your words. But if I might make a suggestion?"  
  
You incline your head towards him, "Of course."  
  
"When the time comes and you're not sure where to go, I would suggest following the road north."  
  
You raise a brow in surprise, "Mithrandir?"  
  
He leans forward, a knowing glint in his eyes, "North, my lady." He kisses your hand once more, "Now, I must hurry. I am already running late. Master Gimli! How about you show an old man the way out of this place, so he doesn't end up lost and wasting time he already doesn't have?"  
  
The dwarf bows low and bids you good day, reminding you of his offer before departing the way he had come with the wizard striding along after him. Gandalf gives you a cheerful wave, his eyes still twinkling as with a final swish of his robes, he too was gone.  
  
Confused, you watch them go and only once they had disappeared from view do your eyes return to Thorin. Sighing with frustration, you begin to weave your way through the many work benches and make your way towards him, inclining your head and returning the greetings of the numerous dwarf smiths you passed along the way, many of whom you had seen the previous evening at the feast. The heat grows ever more oppressing as you pass by the searing glow of the furnaces, until at last you reach the far corner of the room and come to a standstill next to a large rack filled with all manner of metalworking tools.  
  
Still with his back to you and unaware of your arrival or presence, Thorin continues to work at something you couldn't see on the table before him, a small, intricate carving chisel clenched tightly in his fist. Only half dressed in nothing but a loose shirt with rolled up sleeves and soft, black legging pants, the hard muscles on his bare arms flex and tense as he shifts and you watch his every move, mesmerised as always by his very existence. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest at the sight of him and you soon find yourself lost in a memory of a time long ago when you had seen him similarly hard at work like this in some backwater town of men, his hair loosely tied back with a leather thong even as it was now, and the sun beating down on his bare, bronzed back as he had laboured through the long, hot day in the small forge.  
  
A deep feeling and desire had awoken in you as you had watched over him, such as you had never felt for him before. A yearning to touch him and be with him in a way that you could never have imagined up until that moment. And it was then that you had finally realised that you could never in all your life love anyone else the way you loved Thorin. Even if that most certainly meant cursing yourself into a life of solitude, you would suffer it gladly, knowing that you could never betray the truth that was now written and laid bare in your heart.  
  
It was partly for this reason you had maintained your distance from him, as painful as it was, and always remained hidden and out of sight as you strove to keep him safe, fearing to stray too close in the event of discovery. Your fear of being rejected by him was something new, and had seemed to appear as suddenly as your new feelings for him had - continuing to grow alongside this new love until it was almost incapacitating.  
  
Of course, that had proved to be groundless. His affection for you was all too obvious as it always had been. But you still couldn't be sure of exactly how he regarded you, despite the numerous vague allusions he had made to his possibly feeling something more. And now time was swiftly running out. He was determined to return to Erebor, that much was clear. And even were he to take with him an army of many thousands and march on the Mountain, you still failed to see how it could be anything other than a suicide mission. His words from the previous night come back to mind. Maybe he was right and you were always destined to be parted without him ever knowing of your heart. The thought alone was unbearable. Unless, as Dis had suggested, you told him before it was too late. Hardly comforting.  
  
You close your eyes at the choices you now faced. You would stay with him and face whatever end that destiny had decreed you by his side. Of that there was no doubt. Would you then face a certain death without ever revealing the extent of your love for him and always regret it? Or would you tell him while you had the chance and risk losing him in a completely different way, only to regret that too. Or the third and least likely option of telling him and having him unbelievably feel the same way, only for you to die by his side having never had the opportunity to act on your love, and regret forever not returning to him sooner. It seemed as though every option only ended in regret, and you could see no way to avoid it. Except not dying. Unlikely.  
  
You rub at your temples with the weight of your problem, a small sigh escaping unbidden from your lips. The soft noise finally alerts Thorin of your presence and he whirls around, his whole face lighting up in happiness when he realises it's you. " _Askâd_! What ever are you doing down here?"  
  
You hitch a small smile on to your face, your heart still throbbing painfully as you step up towards him. Determined to make the most of being able to be this close to him while you yet could, you boldly press yourself into his arms, seeking his comfort. "I came to find you, of course."  
  
He raises a brow in quiet surprise as you press your face into his shoulder, but instantly wraps his arms tight around you and pulls you close against his chest, happy to give you whatever you needed. "Well, then. I am twice blessed." He presses a kiss into your hair, his expression one of concern. "Are you alright, dear one?"  
  
You nod into his neck, breathing in the musky scent of his skin that had always smelled of rich earth after a hot summer rain and which was now mixed with the smell of fresh sweat caused by the burning heat of the nearby furnaces. You quickly cast around for an excuse for your sudden behaviour, "I missed you, is all. I woke and you were not there."  
  
He sighs apologetically, his fingers finding your hair and running through it soothingly. "Forgive me, my love. You seemed beyond exhausted and I did not want to disturb you. You slept so soundly, you didn't even stir when I carried you to bed. After I had finished my errands I came back to check on you, but you were still sleeping, so I came down here for a while."  
  
You breathe deeply again, relaxing against him, his touch bringing you an instant comfort that you were beginning to wonder how you had survived the many long years without. "Did _you_ even sleep at all?"  
  
"Better than I have in a very long time, I assure you."  
  
"I'm glad." You pull back a little to look up at him and finding him watching you with soft eyes. "I got lost trying to find you, you know."  
  
He smiles tenderly at your lack of pride in admitting your failings to him. "I was actually wondering how you had managed to seek me out so confidently. I thought it must have been some trick that only a ranger could know."  
  
You laugh softly at his teasing, you heart suddenly feeling lighter. "I'm afraid it was far less impressive. I wandered around for an age thinking that I would end up lost forever beneath the bones of the earth, but luckily for me I ran into someone and he saved me."  
  
His beard twitches as he grins wider at your laugh, seeming to revel not only in his own happiness at your return, but in your happiness at being with him too. "Oh? And to whom do I owe my undying gratitude for rescuing my beloved?"  
  
"It was Gimli, Glóin's son."  
  
He raises a brow, "Glóin's boy, eh? He's a good lad that one. A bit reckless perhaps, and will get himself into all sorts of trouble if he doesn't guard himself better. But a good sort like his father, all the same."  
  
You nod in agreement of Thorin's assessment and he strokes a thumb across your cheek. "Well seeing as thanks to Gimli, you are here, I have something for you that may cheer you up. I have just some small pieces to finish." His hands drop to your waist and grip firmly, making you laugh softly as he hoists you up into the air with ease to perch you on the edge of the enormous anvil beside his work bench.  
  
He chuckles at your apparent childlike glee in being manhandled and turns back to his bench to survey the items in front of him with a critical eye. Your gaze follows his and you gasp softly at the exquisitely made dwarven boots now in his hands. He smiles and holds them out to you, offering you a closer look.  
  
Reaching out, you run your fingers gently over the supple, black leather and the silver engravings, your voice soft with emotion. "You made me boots?"  
  
He nods, watching you closely as you inspect them. "I know you already have perfectly good boots of your own, but I remembered well your fondness for ours and always wished that I could have made you a proper pair. So now I have."  
  
Your heart swelling painfully with love for him, you lift your hand to rest against his cheek. "They're so beautiful. I do not know what I have done to deserve such a gift, but thank you."  
  
He presses a kiss into the palm of your hand, seemingly happy with your reaction as he places the boots back on to the desk and picks up his file once more. "As I said, I have always wanted to make you a proper pair. I did not think I'd ever get the chance - but now you have returned to me, this is a wish fulfilled on my part." He looks up at you again, his eyes burning with intensity. "Besides, what reason do I need to want to make you happy?"  
  
Your heart clenches again, skipping at his words. "How could I ever be anything else but happy when I have such favour from you, my Lord."  
  
He smiles softly, "You will always have my favour.."  
  
He returns his attention to your boots as you colour slightly, but then pauses again as another thought crosses his mind. "Oh.... And one more thing..." He reaches down underneath the bench, pulling out a long, thin item wrapped in wax cloth. He hands it over to you. "Your sword. I thought to re-edge it for you after your sparring session with Dwalin last night. But I can find no mark or blemish on the blade. It is a remarkable weapon indeed, and never before have I seen its equal."  
  
Taking it from him, you unwrap the wax cloth carefully to reveal the ornate ebony and silver scabbard inside. Your fingers slide over the black onyx-set pommel and grasping the hilt you withdraw the sword, its ringing sound echoing softly throughout the cavernous room. You inspect it closely in the glow of the nearby furnace, the tiny rivers of silver that edged and ran through the black blade like forked lightning and which now reminded you of Thorin's hair, seemed to dance and glitter in the flickering light. You turn the blade in your hands, your eyes running along the silver dwarf runes etched into the black, spelling out clearly the Khuzdul word for _Shadow_ for all to see who would know it. "This blade was made for me when I reached adulthood."  
  
Thorin watches you closely, his curiosity evident in his gaze. "I have never seen a sword like that made by any smith amongst men or dwarves."  
  
You shake your head and smile softly at him. "That is because it was made by neither. It is of elvish make."  
  
He raises a brow in surprise. "I see.... It seems we have much still to talk about. I would learn all that has befallen you since we were parted."  
  
With a soft sigh you return the sword into its sheath. "It is a long story."  
  
He squints as he leans over the table, fixing two small items that you couldn't make out to the silver buckles on your boots. "I expected nothing else. If it pleases you, we could take lunch out on to the mountainside and view the day? And maybe then we can talk openly at last, you and I."  
  
You smile as you go back to watching him work, only too happy to spend the rest of the day in his company. "I would like that."  
  
He returns your smile, gesturing again to the sword in your hands with his chin. "An apt name for your weapon... _Askâd."  
  
_ You nod, unable to look away from his penetrating gaze. "I asked for it to be named so. I thought that maybe it would bring me luck and feel like I was carrying a small part of you around with me to protect me."  
  
His eyes soften with the sentiment, "You have always carried more than a small part of me with you, my love."  
  
"As you have me."  
  
He smiles tenderly in agreement, "I think that was always pretty much the way of it since the day we met. It goes against all understanding, but it is undeniable all the same. Was there ever another pair like us in all the histories of the earth?"  
  
You shake your head and laugh quietly, "I would say not. But maybe someday, who knows? A dwarf may decide he's in love with an elf."  
  
Thorin snorts and rolls his eyes as he takes a step back from the bench to view your new boots once more. "Not in my lifetime.... There! All done." Seeming satisfied he holds them up and offers them out to you. "Would you like to try them on?"  
  
You nod and pull up your legs to tug off your own travelling boots, while he waits until you have both feet bared before gently taking hold of your foot and sliding the new ones on in their place. Tightening the straps around your legs, he fastens the silver buckles, highlighting for the first time the two small fastenings attached to them. "Crows?"  
  
He nods as you trace the two small, intricately engraved silver birds. "A lucky symbol of our people. Two especially. One on either boot so that you may always find your path and never stray near danger and the second to carry you swiftly home." He holds out his arms to help you down from the anvil and you slide easily into his grip as he places you on your own two feet, letting you take an experimental step forward. "How is the fit?"  
  
You take another couple of steady steps and grin back at him over your shoulder as you slowly begin to walk around the work bench. "Perfect. However, my ability to remember how to walk in them is another matter altogether." As if to prove a point you stumble and teeter dangerously close to falling, only to find yourself wrapped suddenly in his strong, rescuing embrace. His chest quakes with silent laughter as he presses a kiss to your brow. "It seems like you have a bit of a habit when it comes to needing to be rescued."  
  
You giggle into his shoulder, "That's because I'll always have you to rescue me..." You correct yourself to look up at him and raise a questioning brow, suddenly feeling wicked as you press yourself closer against his chest and wrap your arms loosely around his neck. "Are you complaining, my Lord?"  
  
He colours ever so slightly at your extreme proximity and implied meaning, but grins all the wider. "You'll find no complaint from me about your non existent sense of propriety, my love. This is definitely a habit of yours I could get used to."  
  
You laugh again and roll your eyes, "Well, just in case and to offend you on principle.." You lean in to press a heartfelt kiss to his cheek, "Thank you once again for my boots, Thorin. They're exquisite."  
  
His face softens with a warm smile as you pull back, "And as always, you are most welcome and still manage to look completely adorable in them."  
  
He laughs as you give him your best scowl. "I think you meant to say very dwarf-like and fearsome?"  
  
He nods earnestly, trying his hardest to look completely serious again. "Yes. That's correct. Forgive my mistake."  
  
"Better." You wink at him as he releases you and starts to clear away his tools.  
  
"Would you like to put your other boots back on until you have time to practise with the new ones?"  
  
You shake your head, gathering your things together. "No time like the present."  
  
"If I remember rightly, it did not take you very long before."  
  
You smile over at him, "No. And seeing as I am never going to take these off, I'm sure it won't this time either."  
  
"Well, I'll make sure to not let you fall in the meantime, my love." He reaches out a hand to you, and slipping your fingers easily into his you walk back through the forge at his side, ignoring the amusement and delight of the dwarves you pass by as they take in your new choice of footwear.  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Despite your clumsy stride, the return journey to Thorin's quarters was still much swifter now you had someone with you who knew the way. Dropping off your sword and old boots and collecting a couple of items from your saddlebags, you wait for a moment as Thorin picks up a soft throw blanket before making your way to the kitchens with him to beg a late lunch. Nari, the head cook was not only one of the most jolly people you had ever met, but he was also most accommodating and soon had you packed all manner of delicious looking things into a large wicker basket which he then handed over to Thorin. As he waves you off cheerfully you make a mental note to go back and speak to him at some point about the interesting subject of dwarven cookery and its delicacies - imagining it to be a very broad and substantial subject indeed.  
  
As patient as ever, Thorin leads you at a leisurely pace through the maze of passages, letting you get used to walking in your new boots and also giving you time to look around areas of his halls you had not yet seen, whilst pointing out various places of interest. Thoroughly enjoying this time spent with him, you find yourself wishing that it could last for longer and that you could both stay here and live out a life together in relative peace and comfort.  
  
Sighing softly, you stumble upon a stairwell and Thorin reaches for your hand again and grasps it tightly, grinning when he mistakes your expression for trepidation over the climb. "Do not fret, my love. The stair is not as long as the one you climbed yesterday evening."  
  
Saying nothing, you take his hand and start to climb and true enough, before you had even realised it you were standing at the very top and heading out on to another ledge in the mountainside much the same as the one he had taken you to yesterday, except this one not nearly as high, with no path leading from it and this time facing south so that it caught the sun for most of the day. Standing out on the edge of the warm rock you look about you with interest, spying the treeline of pines that dotted the lower slopes just below you and to the east the pathway leading up to the great gates that you had traversed only yesterday evening. You suddenly wonder for a moment how Nithoel was faring, thinking to go and enquire after your faithful friend later on. Turning to say as much, you find Thorin rearranging the blanket he had brought on the ground before promptly sitting on it and stretching himself out, leaning his back against the smooth wall of rock behind him with a sigh. He smiles when he notices you watching him and motions for you to join him as he takes his pipe from his pocket and busies himself with lighting it.  
  
Gladly accepting his invitation you settle yourself down beside him and draw a small leather pouch from your pocket, from which you pull your own pipe. He watches with raised brow and then chuckles and shakes his head as you light it and proceed to blow a large smoke ring which sails softly across the ledge before disappearing down over the precipice. "You never cease to amaze me, you know. Just when I think I understand you, you go and do something completely unexpected."  
  
You grin as you lean back against his side, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulders. "I'm glad. I would hate for you to find me dull."  
  
Grinning into your hair he blows an even bigger smoke ring which hangs in the air before you, rotating slowly despite the gentle breeze which blew across the ledge. "Dull is one thing I could never find you, love."  
  
Still smiling, you watch the smoke ring, fascinated. Thorin laughs at your expression and waits for a few long moments more before barking a sharp command in Khuzdul, to which the smoke ring instantly shoots straight up into the air, rotating ever faster as it disappears out of sight. You gasp delightedly and turn your head to face him. "Teach me!"  
  
He laughs harder still and shakes his head, "Later, perhaps. I believe you promised me a story first."  
  
You sigh in disappointment, the smile sliding from your face as you gaze out across the rolling hills below. Something evident in your expression makes Thorin's own smile die and he frowns in concern as he rubs at your neck. "What is wrong?"  
  
You shake your head and smile apologetically. "I am sorry. I am perhaps a little unsure of where to begin, and more than a little afraid of how you will react to some of the things I have to tell you."  
  
His frown deepens and his fingers gently find your chin, turning your head to face him. "Why would you be afraid, my love. You can tell me anything. You should know that."  
  
You breathe deeply and nod, "I know. It's just that I have so many things I would like to say to you and have dreamed of saying to you for so long, and now that I have the chance I am at a loss as to how to say them. I have made many mistakes in the years we have been parted and now they are coming back to haunt me. I did not see them then, or I pretended that I didn't. But I see them all too clearly now and it is painful for me. I would hate for my failings to be equally as painful for you."  
  
Thorin caresses your cheek, his confusion clear in his eyes, but also his resolve and curiosity. "We all make mistakes. Some more painful and costly than others. But I would still know yours, and would like to know everything that has befallen you since the day I left you in your uncle's care."  
  
You sigh in resignation as you gather yourself to comply with his request. "Very well.... Let's see .... After you departed, my uncle and I stayed in Bree for a further two weeks whilst he decided what he would do with me in regards to my upbringing, education and so forth. That is when I first learned of my heritage and the fact I was of the Dúnedain - but I didn't really understand the full meaning and implications of that at the time. I was given a better and fuller picture later on by others...  
  
As you know, when I was but a babe, I lost my mother to a terrible sickness. As she had lain on her deathbed, she made my father, a ranger himself, promise to relinquish his duties to settle down somewhere with me and raise me himself. You see, our forays into the wilds are often perilous, and it is all too common for a father to never return.."  
  
Thorin gazes down at you sympathetically, "And your women? Do they not also patrol the land as you do?"  
  
You shake your head. "No. At the moment, I am the only woman amongst the patrols that I know of. Most can fight if so needed, but they choose not to and generally dedicate their time to the raising of children instead, to ensure the line of Númenor does not die out. There are so very few of us left now and children are as precious to us as they are to you." You gaze out over the ledge, squinting your eyes against the bright sunshine as you continue. "But I never had an inkling to settle down, so that's why I chose to ride out. Besides, the marriages amongst my kin are often short lived as the husband will meet the aforementioned untimely end in one grisly way or another."  
  
Thorin continues to watch you with interest as he returns to smoking his pipe. "Why not?"  
  
You turn back to him and raise a questioning brow, "Hmm?"  
  
"Why didn't you ever find the want to settle down?"  
  
"Oh." You shrug, not quite able to meet his gaze, and instead concentrate on the feel of his hand resting against your neck as you debate for the best answer to give him. "My heart would never be in it. It lies elsewhere."  
  
A long moment of silence follows, and you can be left in no doubt that Thorin was thinking over the meaning behind your statement. To ease your discomfort you carry on, leaning into his touch as he continues to caress under your jaw. "Anyway, it was this very life my mother wanted to spare me from. A strange irony really that I still became a ranger."  
  
He brushes a strand of hair behind you ear to see you better, "So your father made the promise and then left his duties to take care of you?"  
  
You nod, "Yes. He kept his promise to my mother and gave up his patrol to my uncle, becoming a merchant instead to give us a means of income. Not long after my mother died, he decided that we should travel to Dale, where it was said that life was rich and prosperous - and start afresh. So that's what we did. My father, as you know, was a good man and soon made a success of our new life. And that is how I came to be there."  
  
You finally meet his gaze and find him looking back, the understanding now clear in his eyes. "I see....So then what did your uncle decide to do after I left you in his care?"  
  
You sigh softly, reaching out for the large hand resting against your throat and bringing it to your lips, afraid still of the reaction you were sure was to come. "As a ranger himself, it was soon decided that he would not be able to raise me personally, as he had no wife or family of his own at the time. So, as many before him had done, he sent a message to Lord Elrond of Rivendell asking for both advice and help. I did not know it then, but Lord Elrond has often fostered the children of the Dúnedain when one or both of the parents have passed away, for they are his kin. He was sympathetic to my plight and offered to take me in right away. So then, it was decided and my uncle journeyed with me that very day and delivered me unto Lord Elrond who promised to raise me as his own, care for me and tutor me."  
  
Thorin shakes his head in numb disbelief, warranting your fears with the distaste and anger all too clear in his expression, "I knew it. I should never have left you. It tore me apart to do so and I've always regretted it. If I had known then that he was unable to raise you personally, I would have kept you by my side and seen to your upbringing myself."  
  
You bring his hand between both of your own and squeeze it as you gaze up at him beseechingly, "Nay, do not feel that way, my love! You acted most honourably. You did for me more than any other would ever have done, and I will always love you for that."  
  
He gazes down at you with such a look of intense pain it takes your breath. "Did I!? Did I really do right by you? Tell me your heart!"  
  
You sigh softly, running your thumb soothingly over the back of his hand and racking your brain for the words to comfort him, to let him know just how much his sacrifices for you had meant. "Yes. You did." You gaze up into his eyes, "Losing you was the most excruciating experience of my life.." Another flash of hurt appears in his eyes and you shake your head quickly, "No! Let me finish! ... As I said, it was beyond unbearable... And after talking to Dis, I know how it was for you too... But because of that selflessness I was given the chance to learn and grow to be all I could be. Because of you, I have gained knowledge and skills long forgotten by most. Because of you I was given an opportunity to be with my own people. You were right. I had to have that chance - at least for a while. So I could make my own choice as to where I truly belonged."  
  
He breathes deeply as he attempts to gain control, "And did you? Make the choice, I mean?"  
  
You eyes fall to the ground and your voice comes as barely a whisper. "I came home, did I not?"  
  
He sits in brooding silence for a while and still half afraid you twine your fingers inside his in an attempt to comfort and reassure. His own focus moves to your joined hands, his heartache only increasing at the sight of how tiny yours still seemed, resting in his. Thorin sighs and shakes his head again and you take his momentary loss of words as a chance to try and convince him. "Look...I know why you hate them so, my love. Truly. You know my heart, so you know that I understand completely and feel nothing but empathy towards your people for what befell you. But this is the reaction I was so afraid of and I need you to try and understand and listen with an open mind to what I have to tell you."  
  
Your pleading eyes gaze deeply into his, "Please, Thorin. For me."  
  
His eyes soften as he stares back and you reach out your free hand to rest it against his cheek, repeating the plea. "For me."  
  
He takes another deep breath, his hot temper cooled for now, nodding once as he leans into your soft caress. "Of course. Forgive me. For you, anything."  
  
You give him a small smile and maintain your soothing contact with him as you seek to explain your experiences without upsetting him further. "While you may be of that opinion, not all elves are the same. And Lord Elrond is certainly the very best of his race. As one of the guardians of Middle Earth he has no animosity towards your kind, or any of the free peoples - treating everyone with the same respect. All are welcome to take their comfort and ease in Rivendell, and his is the last homely house east of the sea for good reason. He sees petty grudges and differences as a waste of time and is the wisest person I have ever met, with the exception of maybe Mithrandir. He's also infinitely kind."  
  
You pause for just a moment to regard the dwarf in front of you, but despite his disbelief and obvious dislike for even the mere mention of elves, Thorin showed no further sign of interrupting. His eyes never leave yours as your gentle fingers trace the outline of his ear and then along the coarse hair on his jaw. "Lord Elrond took good care of me. He was patient and understanding. Once he discovered my thirst for knowledge he set about tutoring me on all manner of things from the histories of the land and its peoples, to botany and languages. I had access to a vast wealth of knowledge and skills that only the wisest would know, and I just couldn't get enough. He spent a lot of time with me, happy to teach me anything and everything that I showed any interest in, and also the things that would help me to survive. The elves taught me to defend myself and when it became clear I had a certain aptitude for that too, they gave me further instruction and tutored me in a lot more than self defence. I was trained in all manner of swordplay and then with the bow. The axe came afterwards at my own request."  
  
You smile softly, lost in memory as you continue to run your fingers absentmindedly through Thorin's beard. "Also, because he knew I had a keen interest, Lord Elrond taught me much on dwarven history and culture."  
  
Thorin raises a brow, unable to contain himself. "And what would an elf know of our culture?"  
  
You shrug slightly as you look back up at him. "He has a great interest in all histories and cultures and owns a vast library on the subject. But he has always harboured a special fondness for yours. Since I first arrived in Rivendell and he asked me my story, always he has been understanding of my love for you and yours and sympathetic towards it. When the rangers and scouts returned from their travels, he would always search me out and think to give me any news that he may have learned regarding you and how you fared. He knew how important that was to me, and how much I missed you."  
  
Thorin sighs softly at your sentiment, rubbing his chin into the palm of your hand to try and keep control of himself and his dislike for an elf that apparently knew so much about them and their secrets. He casts around for a subject that doesn't involve the master of the hidden valley. "What of your uncle?"  
  
"He used to visit occasionally. When he returned from an errand or a patrol he would always come and spend a day or two with me to see how I was getting on."  
  
"And where is he now?"  
  
"He's dead." You wince at your own matter-of-fact tone and look up at Thorin apologetically. "When I was but sixteen, Lord Elrond came to find me. My uncle and his men had been on some errand for him into the south and were long overdue, so he had sent out scouts to search for any sign of their fate. They were found in Tharbad.. All were slain. None had survived."  
  
Thorin rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in comfort, his vague memories of the old Númenorian ghost town serving him well enough to not need any further description. "I'm so very sorry..."  
  
You give him a wan smile, "It was a long time ago and I hardly knew him, really. But it was that I suppose which decided my path for me."  
  
He raises a questioning brow, "How so, my love?"  
  
You shift slightly and stretch out your legs, "I sought an audience with Lord Elrond and begged him to allow me to take up my uncle's old position in the south. Thanks to the scouts and Lord Elrond's kindness in sharing news, I knew you and your folk still resided in Dunland and hoped that by joining the new patrol I might be able to be closer to you and maybe check on your well being for myself. Of course, Lord Elrond forbid it. I was still only a child, after all and barely reaching womanhood. Especially in the eyes of one immortal, let alone those of the rest of my kin. But still, I was headstrong and would not be swayed, always so determined to join the patrols and fight to protect those who could not protect themselves. Long we argued over my future, but at last, after two long years, he relented. On my eighteenth birthday, the elves forged for me my sword. Knowing of my fondness for the nickname which you had bestowed upon me, it pleased Lord Elrond to make the blade black and to etch upon it that very name in the cirth of your race. Because of that, an armour was made for me such as they had never made before, for even though it was fashioned after their own style, it is also as black as the blade. And yet despite this, he would still not let me join the patrols, deeming it too dangerous for one so young and inexperienced. After much debate, we finally reached a compromise and instead I would be allowed to join the company of the sons of Elrond on their scouting sortie's. So that's what I did."  
  
You smile up at him softly as he listens to you with rapt attention, "From these expeditions, I learned much that the elves could not really teach me in Rivendell. Elladan and Elrohir were almost as patient and knowledgeable as their father and taught me how to truly survive in the wilds. I sparred with them both every day to improve my sword play and learned from them everything they could show me. With much application I soon became not a burden needing to be looked after all the time, but a valuable member of their company.  
  
By the time I was twenty I showed such promise that on the advice of his sons, Lord Elrond put me in command of my own scouting party. I would still ride out on errands with him, or with Elladan and Elrohir, but mostly with my own men - and that is what I continued to do for quite some time".  
  
You shake your head at the irony, "It was _you_ that actually gained me command of a patrol. And only because Lord Elrond did not really have a choice in the matter."  
  
He raises a brow in surprise. " _Me_? How?"  
  
You absentmindedly play with his fingers as you lose yourself in the memory. "Lord Elrond had sent myself and my men to the north. He'd had a report that a large company of orcs had passed by the Ettenmoors and were heading south towards our borders. Curious as to their intent he asked us to seek them out and scout their exact numbers. We intercepted them just north of the high pass and found a gathering such as I had never seen before, almost six thousand strong and armoured for battle. I sent my swiftest rider back to Imaldris to relay these tidings, whilst the rest of us stayed close to the orc regiment and tracked their every movement as they continued south. Within a day, Lord Elrond had managed to muster the entire valley and rode out to reinforce us before we engaged the orcs during the night.  
  
It was the first real battle I had ever been in and just out of habit I found myself fighting alongside Elladan. It quickly turned into a rout - such is the prowess of the elves - and over so swiftly I did not even have time to count how many I had killed."  
  
Thorin shifts slightly underneath you as he tries to get more comfortable, frowning softly in confusion as he processes this information. "But how is this related to me?"  
  
You gaze up into his blue eyes, remembering all too clearly what had followed. "A few days later, a scout came riding back to the valley in great haste, his horse almost at death's door with exhaustion. He reported to Lord Elrond that King Thrór had tried to reclaim the lost kingdom of Moria and that he had encountered a huge host of orcs before its gates and many had been slain, including the king himself. It became obvious then, that the orc regiment _we_ had destroyed had been intending to join their brethren in battle against you at the Dwarrowdelf."  
  
You blink back tears in memory and Thorin's expression instantly changes to one of realisation and understanding. Your grip on his hand tightens and he return the pressure, lost in his own emotions of that time. "Of course, Lord Elrond came to give me the news right away, knowing that I would find out sooner or later and wanting to let me hear it from him rather than from another. He told me that the king was dead and you had lost many thousands, well over two thirds of your army - and despite being victorious you had not even entered Khazad-dûm. Distraught and grieving for the loss, I asked him for news on you, but he had not yet received any and could give me no satisfactory answer. He promised that he would update me as soon as the scouts returned with more information, but I refused to wait."  
  
You choke back a sob, the feelings of dread that you had felt still raw. "I think that was the worst moment of my life. I felt sure you were slain and that I had lost you forever before I even had the chance to see you again - and that I just couldn't bear. Not knowing was excruciating and determined to find out for sure I rode out alone that very day, daring anyone to try and stop me. But they didn't. I rode hard and fast, only slowing enough to let my horse rest when he seemed close to collapse. reaching Moria in just a few short days - but my inspection of the scene of the battle proved fruitless and I could find nothing that would answer my questions amongst the funeral pyres or the rotting bodies of orcs. Refusing to give up, I continued to Dunland and there at last I found what I so desperately sought. Despite my worst fears and against all the odds I found you were alive, safe and well and mustering your people for travel. Able to live and breathe freely again, I searched out the southern patrol and asked them to track your movements, worried for your safety, but also curious as to where you were headed."  
  
You take a deep breath to bring yourself back under control. "Upon my return to Imaldris, I told Lord Elrond of all I had seen and learned, then requested that I be released from my duties. When he asked me why, I told him it was my conviction to never let you out of my sight again and that I intended to follow after you, to protect you always as best I could from now on. In fairness, he was far less surprised than I had thought. He knew how much you meant to me and I think he always expected me to return to you sooner or later. So, knowing I would not be swayed, he instead gave me his blessing.  
  
The others of my party also learning of my decision decided to accompany me out of both love and loyalty, and when it became clear you and your people were heading into the Ered Luin, Lord Elrond refused to let me relinquish my duties and instead gave me and my men the patrol there, killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.  
  
And that is what we have done ever since. We still report back to Lord Elrond and I visit the valley occasionally - always having a bed waiting for me there. But we constantly patrol your borders and I take it upon myself to accompany you wherever you go, always afraid that you'll do something insane and reckless while my back is turned."  
  
You break off and gaze up into Thorin's eyes, studying the mixture of emotions reflected in the clear blue. Grief for the memory of his grandfather and kin, lost so needlessly. A pain for your own suffering - and yet also admiration and adoration for the lengths you had gone to out of love for him. He takes a shuddering breath, placing his pipe down beside him and reaching up to caress your face again with his free hand. "You follow me?"  
  
You nod, colouring slightly under his touch "Yes. Everywhere you go. I set out before you reached the Blue Mountains and watched on as you began to build your halls here. I truly became what you used to call me, shadowing you whenever you travelled away from home. Many long days uncounted I have spent watching over you as you worked for your people in the cities of men."  
  
He gazes off over your shoulder as he struggles with his emotions for a while. "You know, everywhere I went, I used to search for you. I would scan the faces in the crowds of every town and city I visited, always imagining I would see your face there. But it was hopeless, as you were always in every face I saw - I thought myself ridiculous for imagining such things in my desperation. How strange the irony then, that you were actually there all along. .. So near and yet so far..." He exhales softly at his own musings, his eyes returning to yours and seeing his pain shared there. "May I ask why you did not make yourself known to me? Why have you never returned until now?"  
  
You gaze back at him in silence for a long moment, your throat constricting as your mind runs through all the answers you had prepared over the long years in possibility that you would yet be reunited with him - finding that they all sounded so hollow and empty now. "I suppose there are many reasons."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
You sigh softly, "I never had any reason to know or believe your feelings for me had endured the same as mine. I was but a small child the last we met - and even though no one could doubt your love for me then, time changes many things and breaks many bonds. Much has happened to both of us in the long years we have been parted and I was unsure of how I would be received."  
  
Thorin frowns and shakes his head as he leans towards you, "Surely you knew that you would always be welcome?"  
  
You gaze back at him sadly, "It is like you told me only yesterday. You can see many things if you look deep into your heart, but sometimes looking is the problem and can be too painful.. I was afraid of being forgotten or rejected. It seems ridiculous to me now that I am sitting here with you, but the fear was very real at the time. As was my fear of leaving heartbroken. I had no way of knowing how you would react to me as I am now, and as the time passed by it became more and more difficult to return."  
  
You sigh softly, "Sometimes I used to wonder if it wouldn't be kinder to leave you with the memories of the child you loved instead of maybe tainting that memory by returning."  
  
His hand slips to cradle the side of your head, his thumb tracing your jaw as his penetrating eyes seem to look right into your very soul. "I often questioned my feelings in regards to you, and never managed once to fully understand how you could effect me the way you did and so quickly. So I decided quite early on that perhaps I wasn't meant to question it or understand it, but just accept it. That way of thinking gave me peace, and I have never since doubted my heart. No matter who you had become, I do not think I could have cared for you any less, or have ever been disappointed, for it was always your loving heart that I adored. It makes no difference to me then how you have changed, because I know that part of you will always remain. I could never forget or reject that."  
  
You bite hard at the inside of your lip, blinking back the watery sheen in your eyes. "But that also leads to other complications, does it not? For even in the eventuality that you still held the same regard for me, I concluded that it would only cause us both pain when after finally being reunited, we would only have to part again to fulfil our duties. The pain of our last parting was not something I cared to make a repeat of, for you or me both.... Besides, you had to find your own way without having me to burden you once more."  
  
 Thorin shakes his head in disbelief, his fingers finding your chin again as he forces you to look at him, "You were never a burden."  
  
"Yes I was. You're just too biased and honourable to either see it or admit it. I made your life so much harder, when it was the last thing you needed."  
  
His grip becomes tighter on your chin as he strives to make you understand, "You made my life worth living when I had lost everything. So do not say such things."  
  
You swallow hard at his sentiment and fall silent, the unshed tears stinging in your eyes as you return your attention to the scenery. His hand falls from your face to rub gently at your back as he desperately seeks to comfort you. "So, if you truly felt this way, then why now? Why have you finally decided to throw your fears to the wind and return?"  
  
You take a deep breath and draw your knees up to your chest, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from your own pain. "For many weeks now, a desperate need to return to you has been growing in my heart, fuelled further by nightmares and dark visions containing nothing but fire and ash. You figured prominently in all of them, stood alone before a mountain all aflame. A deep feeling of dread came over me that I could not shake and suddenly afraid that these images could be a warning that you were planning to do the unthinkable, I decided that I could no longer distance myself and that it was time I returned to you at last.  
  
It was a strange coincidence then, that as I was preparing to do just that we encountered Mithrandir, who told us that something seemed to be amiss to the north and requested that we go and search out the problem, if any existed. I was reluctant to go, such was my need to return to you then - but the wizard said that he himself was on his way to the Blue Mountains on business that could not wait, and that if we were to find anything, that I should leave my men patrolling the borders of the Shire and that I should report to him there. Curious, but better comforted knowing he would be with you, we did as he requested and travelled north. We encountered an orc pack in the downs, such has not been seen in those parts for an age. We eliminated most, but one escaped. Suddenly beyond desperate to return south, I left my men guarding the lands of the halflings as the grey wizard had requested and then hastened here alone to deliver these tidings." You gaze up at him with an unreadable expression. "Only to find that you are indeed planning to do the unthinkable."  
  
Shrugging, you continue in a soft voice. "And that is why I have returned. Although I always would have eventually. I thought of you every single moment, and would not have been able to be parted from you forever. I am not that strong. But the thought of you being in any danger or of losing you I can not bear. I would do anything to prevent that."  
  
"I see..." He breaks off, slipping into silence as he thinks over everything you had told him and searches his own feelings now that he understood your reasons for not coming back to him earlier. You wait patiently, giving him time to collect and process his thoughts, seeing it clearly in his eyes as he reaches his decision. He sighs as he glances back up at you. "Whatever your reasons, and whether wrong or right, no one can turn back time. You're here now, and that is all that matters.."  
  
You nod, grateful for his gentle understanding, "I suppose what is worse is that all the reasons I had seem so pointless and empty now, and I will forever regret not coming home sooner. As I said, I have made so many mistakes. But I was wrong to be afraid. Forgive me, Thorin."  
  
He reaches out for you and you press against his side, letting him wrap his arms around you in a strong embrace. He sighs softly and presses a soft kiss into your hair as you settle once more into a familiar intimacy with your head against his chest. "There is nothing to forgive, my love. To know I always had your heart is enough."  
  
"You always will have it - and I hope it will always be enough."  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
 _The flames rise up around you, white-hot, hungry, devouring everything in their path. The searing heat burns at your skin as you stumble across the scorched and blackened ground, desperately searching for a way of escape. Behind you heavy footsteps of something unseen and yet monstrously large quake the very foundations of the earth as they get closer and closer. Panic twists at your stomach, flaring up inside you and your cry out in desperation with the realisation that running would be futile.  
  
"No...."  
  
Through the dark, billowing clouds of smoke, a prone figure comes into distant view, the body lying unmoving on the baked earth. Your shallow breath catches, burning in your throat and you shake your head fearfully, already knowing all too well who it would be. Against your will, your feet carry you towards it, and behind you a bellowing roar shatters the silence, the ground quaking harder as the pounding footsteps quickly close the remaining distance between you.  
  
"No..."_  
  
  
 **"Askâd..."** _  
  
_ _You come to a standstill beside the fallen man on the ground, hardly daring to look as you squat down beside him. Steeling yourself, you chance a quick look towards the head, but his face was obscured by a familiar green travelling cloak. Now ignoring the fruitless escape from the oncoming apparition swiftly approaching you, you hesitantly and fearfully reach out a trembling hand to gently pull back the cloak, now somehow desperate to confirm the man's identity. You let out a broken sob as the face of the man comes into view, the tears welling in your eyes as your suspicions are confirmed. The pale, lifeless face of your father gazes back at you unseeing, his grey eyes long dulled with a film of death and a river of congealed blood smeared across his chin and lips. Your head bows as you give into your sobs, your thin fingers clutching painfully hard at the green velvet of his cloak. "I'm so sorry Papa..."  
  
You wipe at the hot tears streaming down your soot blackened cheeks and let the cloth fall from your hands only to stop suddenly and frown in confusion. The material that had only a moment before been forest green was now a rich, royal blue, its isometric embroidery patterned in luxurious silver thread. Your eyes widen and your heart misses several beats as you slowly look back up along the body towards the face of the fallen.  
  
"No.... Thorin...."  
  
Instead of soft brown hair, black braids now rested against broad shoulders, surrounded by a crown of raven waves. The dead, grey eyes that had moments before gazed back at you were now turned to a similarly lifeless blue. Your hand reaches out once more in absolute numbness to touch the bearded chin of a figure that was now no longer man, but dwarf. You flinch as your fingers trace gently over icy cold lips and a scream of utter heartbreak and denial rips through the silence, tearing the very threads of your existence apart with raw, unbridled emotion before echoing out across the sky.  
  
_ **"Askâd..."** _  
  
You lean in to wrap your arms desperately around the lifeless figure and heave to pull his dead weight against you, only then realising the scream is coming from you. Your sobs burst forth in a torrent borne of the deepest loss, and you bury your face into his long waves of hair as you cradle his head to your throat. Behind you the quaking footsteps suddenly come to a halt, and a searing heat suddenly envelopes you and surrounds you like a pool of molten lead. You close your eyes against your grief and press a soft kiss to the brow of the dwarf in your arms, not caring for the dark shadow that now blocks out the sun and turns everything around you to night. Taking a deep breath you hold the one in your embrace all the tighter, letting your eyes open to look at him one last time before turning your head to face your fate, finding no reason to want to live now without him. A deep growl of inevitability rumbles up from within the glittering mass before you, and you thank all the gods that it would at least be quick so that you could be reunited with the one you loved. Through your pain another movement in the smoke catches your attention, a white shape moving stealthily amongst the toxic cloud of fumes, but before you could struggle to make the figure out a flash of blinding white hot light surrounds you, burning at your very soul as you scream with the agony of it.  
  
 **"**_ **Askâd!"**  
  
"Thorin!" You cry out his name, startling awake as a gentle but firm shake of your shoulders rouses you from your worst nightmare. Your eyes fly open to reveal him gently silhouetted by the dim torchlight and lying in bed close beside you, watching you with a mixture of both love and deep concern. Your breath comes in sharp, ragged pants and your heart races to break free of your chest, your mind struggling to free itself from the vivid images of your slumber. "Thorin?"  
  
You frown in confusion as to how he could suddenly seem so alive and well, when just moments before.... You shudder with the thought as he reaches out to gently brush back the damp hair from your sweat slick brow, shushing you tenderly. "It's alright, my love. It was just a dream..... Just a bad dream..."  
  
The fog of your mind clears a little and you repeat his words softly to yourself as you continue to gasp for breath. "Just.... a...a dream..."  
  
He nods, his eyes soft with sympathy, and overcome with relief you reach up to touch his face, still not quite willing to take his word on it until you feel him warm, soft and very much alive beneath your touch. He presses a gentle kiss into the palm of your hand and you finally manage to draw and deep, shuddering breath. "Thorin...." Filled with a wave of emotion brought about by both your dream and the relief that it had only been just that, you reach out for him with a soft cry, needing his comfort now more than anything.  
  
His arms find you without question and he wraps you instantly into his protective embrace, holding you close against his chest as he begins to rock you gently. The cold, lifeless image of your dream comes swimming back into your vision and your eyes fill with tears as you bury your face into his hair, clinging to him for dear life.  
  
He shushes you softly again and presses small kisses into your damp hair as he continues to rock you, desperately trying to comfort you and chase away the darkness of your mind. Your grip on his shirt tightens as you struggle not to cry, the unshed tears burning as you begin to question whether or not your dream could be anything other than premonition and that you were indeed destined to lose him forever. A hopelessness seeps slowly into your very core along with the feeling that time was quickly running out.  
  
"Tell me what you dreamed?"  
  
You shake your head in anguish over being asked to relive or describe it, and he sighs softly, his hold on you tightening. His warm cheek brushes gently against your own as his comforting kisses find your temple instead and his steady breath spills warm and sweet against your throat. Overcome with an urgent need to be closer to him than ever before, and a desperation that was only heightened by your worst fear of losing him, you shift your head slightly and lift your face to meet his. Your nose runs the length of jaw and through the coarse hair of his beard as you search out his lips, not caring anymore for the boundaries you had so carefully constructed for yourself as you reach up to cradle his face gently in your hands. He stills against you instantly and your heart stops - time losing all meaning as you ignore the alarm bells ringing in warning for what you were about to do. Your breath hitches in your throat as you find what you seek, your lips tracing his with a feather touch before you press the ghost of a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  
  
Thorin's own breath catches deep within his chest and he tenses beside you, becoming almost rigid with shock. He makes no move to stop you or push you away, but neither does he react in any way that you had longed or hoped for. When he doesn't respond you pull back a little and let your hands slip from his face, suddenly afraid that you had now overstepped the line with him. Hurt and rejection stings at your eyes and you swallow hard against it, your heart sinking in your chest like ice. You fearfully take a quick glance up at him, waiting for the painful consequences of your reckless actions and the probability of bringing about your own fear and losing him truly. "Thorin... I - "  
  
You break off as you meet his crystal blue gaze, the turmoil raging in its depths killing your empty excuses and apologies instantly. Through Thorin's eyes you had always been able to see into his very soul, and now was no exception. To you, who had always seemed to know and understand him so well even as a child, the emotions shining there were all too clear. He stares back at you, still unmoving, his shock and surprise the most apparent, but as you look deeper, you can see his innermost pain too.  
  
He frowns slightly at the look of hurt and supposed rejection he can see all too clearly now in your own eyes, seeming almost surprised by the depth of it as he lifts his hand from your waist to rest against your cheek. Unable to look away, you watch as he wages a battle with his deepest emotions - seeing his disbelief, doubt and fear change to uncertainty and then longing as his thumb slowly begins to trace your parted lips. You forget to breathe as he continues to try and separate the long years of bitter regret and hurt regarding a child he had adored and left behind, with the new found adoration and attraction he now so easily felt towards the woman you had become. Even though the tender love in his eyes was as obvious in this moment as it had always been, so was his confusion over the bond he had always known with you but that had now been instantly reforged against all reasoning into something much deeper and stronger than ever before.  
  
The raging war still causing turmoil in his eyes, he gently brushes a strand of hair back from your brow and tucks it away behind your ear as he leans in towards you with a questioning frown. He pauses for only a second before softly pressing his lips back against yours, gentle and hesitant as he searches out the answer to a question only he knew. He traces your mouth with his own and you gasp with the sweetness and tenderness of it, making him pause, unsure. You gaze up softly into his confused eyes and shake your head slightly, swallowing your fears as you reach out for him once more, caressing his face in gentle hands. Reassured, he responds in kind as you return your lips to his, kissing you slowly and deeply, letting a thousand unspoken words he'd longed to say to you be expressed through this single touch alone.  
  
His strong heartbeat pounds hard behind his ribs, unsteady and erratic for once as you melt easily into his arms and let yourself be overwhelmed by the sheer depth of love and warmth that now flowed so freely from him. Desperately wanting him to understand the force of your own aching emotion for him, you blindly reach for his hand and draw it up between you, bringing it to rest flat against your breast so he can feel your own heart racing along in time with his. Capturing your bottom lip between both his own he sucks gently, only to pull back a little, his breath catching in surprise when your heartbeat stutters and jumps beneath his palm. You smile softly at his expression and lay your hand over his, letting the electrifying bond flow unchecked between you whilst your heart continues to skip beneath his touch. An expression of wonder fills his eyes, a look that is soon joined by one of acceptance and finally peace as he slowly gazes back up at you. Resting your brow against his you press another gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth before laying nose to nose, enjoying the exciting new intimacy you'd always longed for with him.  
  
His free hand finds your hair again, his fingers running through it gently and you're unable to help a soft yawn escape your lips as he comforts you back into a sleepy haze. He smiles, still gazing at you as though you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. "Go back to sleep, dear one.."  
  
You nod, tangling your legs with his and pressing your free hand against his chest as you settle into him. Lulled by your two hearts beating as one, you yawn again and close your eyes, whispering softly into his throat. "I love you."  
  
His hand pauses in its stroking of your hair and he swallows hard, a look of immense pain and sadness appearing suddenly in his eyes. He buries his face into your hair and closes his eyes against the force of it, trying his best to keep his voice steady and succeeding as he replies softly. "And I you."  
  
Oblivious to his hurt you sigh quietly and allow yourself to drift back off in his arms, feeling safe and an overwhelming joy that the fears of your love being rejected had proved to be as groundless as all the others. The twinge of regret you now felt for not having returned to him sooner was swiftly pushed aside in the blossoming hope that despite the many obstacles you would yet have to face, everything could, with luck, work out just fine.  
  
Long after you had fallen asleep with thoughts of him, Thorin still lies awake and unmoving, your heartbeat now slow and even under his palm - watching you as you rest peacefully against him. His eyes fill with burning tears he would not let fall, and the break in his heart grows that much larger as he struggles to make the hardest decision of his life. He silently curses all the gods for continuing to torture him as he finally concludes that he has no choice.  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
Drifting on the edge of waking next morning, having slept so soundly for the remainder of the night, you open your eyes to find yourself disappointed once again that Thorin wasn't in bed beside you. A small frown crosses your face as you stare at the mess of empty blankets and a stab of hurt constricts your chest as you wonder why he had not wanted to stay with you on this, of all mornings.  
  
You sigh softly to yourself and roll over, pressing your face into his pillow and breathing deeply at the scent of him which remained still clinging heavily to the soft fabric. Instead of dwelling on the pain of his absence you close your eyes again and let the memory of the previous night flood back into your mind. Thorin not rejecting you or pushing you away as you had thought he would, but Thorin kissing you back so softly and tenderly, returning your love despite the odds. Your heart begins to thud in earnest again as you remember how awkward and unsure he had been, and yet how right his lips had felt against yours, almost as if they had been made to fit together. A warm feeling of joy flows through you and you stretch yourself out in bed, almost feeling dizzy with the force of it.  
  
A soft noise from the other room makes your heart skip a beat and you push back the covers quickly, "Thorin?"  
  
Padding quietly across the cold, polished floor you walk into the living room expecting to see him there, perhaps sat at his writing desk waiting for you to wake. Instead of Thorin however, it was the sight of Dis that greeted you, standing on the balcony with her usually braided hair set loose to cascade in raven waves down her back. Her back to you and staring off into the darkness that always pervaded the heart of the mountain, she does not turn until she hears your soft footsteps approaching behind her.  
  
The smile brought on by the sight of your adopted sister dies on your lips as she faces you and you miss a step, your previous feelings of joy evaporating instantly only to be replaced by shards of ice that clutch at your heart when you take in her numb expression. You step up to her quickly, your eyes missing nothing as you examine her pale face and bloodshot eyes before grasping her softly by the shoulders. "Dis!? What is it!? What has happened!?"  
  
She shakes her head, a look of immense pain crossing her face as she manages to choke out a single word, "Thorin..."  
  
The panic flares up inside the pit of your stomach as you shake her gently, confused and desperate to know what was wrong, "What is it!? Is he alright!? What - " A sudden dawning realisation hits you with an iron fist, forcing the air from your lungs. Thorin's absence was suddenly all too obvious now. Dis watches you with a look of pure sympathy and sorrow as the comprehension blossoms behind your eyes, and you struggle to gasp out the words past the lump in your throat.  
  
"He's gone."


	7. Absent Without Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful what you promise, for a broken promise is a broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this. 13 hour shifts at work have a tendency to dampen my muse and lessen the time I have to write. However, this chapter ALSO (I know you're sick of hearing this) turned out longer than expected at over 20k words. So I have split it into two. The good news then, is that I have two chapters good to roll. Here is the first of them. Thanks also for the lovely comments. It means a lot. There's also a small translation after the chapter. :)

 

 "No..."  
  
Your voice breaks and you shake your head in disbelief, unable to accept that he had left you once more. "But he... I .. "  
  
"He...he left this for you..."  
  
Looking completely lost and numb, Dis reaches into her mantle and withdraws a small scroll of parchment, holding it out to you while hardly able to meet your gaze. You take it from her with trembling fingers, your mind reeling as you stare down at the wax seal and the small flower etched within it. Taking a deep breath and breaking it apart slowly, you unravel the parchment, your eyes scanning over the script it contained - numbly recognising that the flowing words were unsteadier than usual and almost disjointed as though written by a shaking hand. An image of Thorin sat writing in agony at his desk whilst you slept springs to mind as you glance at the first line - a deep chord striking within you as you notice his first use of your real name. He had never before used it even once, preferring the nickname which he had so quickly bestowed upon you in its stead. You ignore the tear in your heart at the discovery and the vast amount of sadness that this one small thing seemed to inflict on you as you continue;  
  
 _Please forgive me for what I am about to do, for it is the hardest and most painful decision of my life.  
  
If I do not leave now, I will never find the strength to leave at all.  
  
Alas that my destiny should tear us apart once more, especially now, but I can not be selfish and must do what is right by my people as their leader. - The time has come and I must return us to the homeland we have dreamed of for so long. I would only be shaming the memory of my grandfather and father if I forsake my duty for the interests of my own heart.  
  
For many long years I have been incomplete, torn by the regret of leaving you. As excruciating as that was and still is, believe me when I say it is nothing, **nothing** compared to the heartbreak I suffer now. My only consolation is that my wish of seeing you once more was fulfilled, and I feel truly blessed to have been granted what little time I had with you, for it is the only request I have ever made of the gods.  
  
As they saw fit to grant me my one wish, I pray that you will do likewise. For although I have never once in all my life asked you for anything, I must ask something of you now and it is of the utmost importance to me.  
  
If you have any feeling for me at all, as you say, then I beg of you not to follow. I could not and will not allow you to put yourself in danger. I made a promise, and despite your opinion on its remaining validity, I still hold to it and will do so for all eternity - not only for the memory of your father, but also for my own sake. I care for you too much to lose you, and I could not bear it or live on knowing all the while that I was responsible for bringing you to harm by placing you in needless peril.  
  
As is my heart, my home is also yours, and I would request then that you abide in my halls and remain with Dis. Your kinsmen likewise, will be most welcome to our hospitality - and I will leave instruction to that effect. It would bring me great comfort knowing that you were safe, but also that my people had as much protection as possible in my absence.  
  
Know then, that I love you more than life itself - I always have. And I will continue to dream that I might return to you someday and never have to leave your side again. In the meantime, knowing you love me in return is all that can sustain me, and I bid you farewell, my love.  
  
Eternally and faithfully yours,  
In this life and the next,  
Thorin._  
  
  
A heartbroken sob breaks free of your chest as you finish reading, the hot tears now falling freely down your cheeks as you hold out the letter to Dis. She takes it from you, her own eyes filled with a renewed sadness as she watches you try to get yourself back under control for a moment before glancing down at the letter in her hands. Taking a shaky breath, you furiously wipe at your tears and force yourself into action, the heartbreak and anger coursing through you and pounding in your temples as you begin to rummage amongst the saddlebags that still rested in their little pile in the corner.  
  
Dis' eyes scan down the letter as you unearth your travelling attire and quickly begin to change. She reaches the end of the scroll and looks up at you as you pull your thin mail shirt over your head, her voice soft. "You told him then?"  
  
You nod, biting your lip hard to restrain further tears as you pull a travel worn, black leather jerkin over the mail and reach for your gloves and vambraces. "I - .. I kissed h .. him ..."  
  
Her eyes dull further with unspoken pity, "That explains it ..." When you respond with nothing other than a questioning silence she continues, wincing at the force with which you tightened the vambrace straps on your arms. "He wasn't meant to leave until the day after tomorrow. But then he came to rouse Fili and Kili this morning before dawn and told them that they were to leave right away and to gather supplies.. He didn't say why the change of plan.." Her eyes fill with tears and she sniffs pitifully. "I hardly had the time to say goodbye...."  
  
You pause with one arm in the sleeve of your coat, feeling as though you had just received a heavy blow to the stomach. As another wave of immense pain courses through your chest, you reach out your one unrestrained arm and pull her into a tight embrace. "I am so very sorry, Dis. I never meant to cause any of you so much pain. In fact, this is the very reason I did not return sooner."  
  
She shakes her head into your shoulder before pulling back slightly to look up at you with wet eyes. "Do not say such things. It is hardly your fault and he was always going to leave, anyway." She wipes her face on the back of her hand and takes a deep breath, her eyes suddenly filled with guilt. "He ... He also asked me to try and prevent you from following him..."  
  
You raise a brow, releasing her again so as to be able to finish putting on your coat. "And _are_ you?"  
  
She shrugs hopelessly, "I think this is one argument I could never win, isn't it? You seem determined to defy _him_ , so what chance would _I_ have?"  
  
Finished dressing, you upturn all your saddlebags out on the floor and begin sorting through the emptied contents, quickly judging what you will need to take in the want to travel light and fast. Leaving various unwanted items in a small pile beside Thorin's couch, you begin repacking the things of use, "The one I love more than anything else in the world is out there and determined to put himself in grave peril. How then, can I idly stand aside and do nothing when there is the smallest chance that it might be within my power to help him or protect him? Nay, it can not be borne, Dis.. Even if my going with him only means that I will either die in his stead, or by his side...Better _that_ than living without him again."  
  
The tears the distraught dwarf woman had momentarily slowed begin to fall in earnest again as she looks down on you with pleading eyes, "My last remaining blood may be out there, but they are not all that is my family. I would not lose you either. You who is as a sister to me."  
  
You choke back another small sob at her words and stand again to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I sincerely hope that you won't have to lose any of us, and I give you my word that I will do my best to see us all return to you, Dis. But I also know that I don't need to tell you how perilous this quest will be. Even if we survive the journey, there will most likely be a dragon waiting for us at the end of it. I do not understand what Thorin is thinking! Even with a vast army of dwarves behind him, he could not ever hope to achieve victory against such a mighty foe as Smaug..."  
  
A heart wrenching cry finally breaks free from her lips and she clutches tightly to you to steady herself. You wrap the arm back around her, feeling just as lost and hopeless as she herself and wishing you had any kind of comfort, no matter how small, to give her. But there was none to be found. You sigh softly to yourself, fighting back the growing wave of dread churning in your stomach as Dis cries herself out against your neck.  
  
Not until her sobs had at last subsided into quiet cries of grief did you finally rub her back and release her, "Come. I can not linger in this place any longer. It breaks my heart and I must away." Reaching for your now half empty saddlebags, you throw them over your shoulders as Dis wipes at her eyes once more and places Thorin's letter into your coat pocket, hiccuping softly, "As .. as you wish...I will ready for you some supplies."  
  
You nod, your heart aching too much to smile as you take one final look around Thorin's quarters, wishing fervently once again that you had returned sooner and could have known peace with him here. With a small cry of frustration you turn on your heel and out of the door, leaving the painful thought to linger in his sanctuary with the remainder of your belongings.  
  
  
* * * * * *  


Within the hour you were ready to depart once more, your saddle bags now bulging with supplies taken from both the kitchens and the armoury. As you had journeyed throughout Thorin's halls with Dis at your side, you had been struck by the sombre mood that was tangible throughout the entire mountain, emanating from the folk who resided there. Its presence embedded itself within you, making your own feelings of sorrow that much more painful and making you realise, if you hadn't before, the full gravity of what Thorin intended to do. 

Traversing the walkways in the direction of the entrance hall, you eventually stumble upon a hardened looking group of old dwarf men who turn and stop their whispered conversation as soon as you come into sight, their pale and calculating eyes first passing over Dis, still with ghostly face and bloodshot eyes, and then to you as they survey your bags, travelling clothes and grim expression with looks of quiet surprise. You incline your head to them as you pass them by and they quickly bow low in unison, their expressions changing to ones of admiration and respect along with tinges of pity as they soon guess your intentions. Muttering quiet blessings, they straighten up and watch you continue on your way, and you wonder silently if you would ever see them again, knowing all the while that they too were thinking the very same.

Continuing into the entrance hall, Dis leads you down a side passage, ignoring the many dwarves who once again stop and bow to you as you pass them, each reflecting the same expressions of reverence in their eyes and actions as the first group you had encountered. You swallow hard past the lump in your throat and instead concentrate on breathing deeply to calm yourself while following the raven haired dwarf woman as she strides purposely along the winding passage.

After a small eternity spent in a silence that was only broken by your swift footsteps and deep breathing, the passage opens up into a large, dry cavern that smelled of horse, hay and liniment. Curious, you follow Dis into the softly lit room only to find the hall was filled with rows upon rows of wooden stalls, most of which contained small, shaggy looking ponies. Two guards standing at the far wall bow low as you enter and you make your way over to them, intending to enquire after your horse. No sooner had you taken more than a step, a soft whinny from the opposite corner attracts your attention and you turn to see Nithoel in the far end stall, his proud, white head raised as he whinnies again in greeting. Unable to help the small smile from crossing your lips, you dance your way through stacks of trussed straw bales and make your way towards him, dropping your bags as you reach out to caress his soft nose and scratch behind his ear. "Suilaid, Nithoel. Im gelir ceni ad lín."

He nudges at your shoulder as you give him a quick once over, happy to see that the dwarves had indeed kept their word when you find him looking well rested and glossy. Pulling back slightly, you look into his kind eyes and sigh, "I am sorry to take you away from your comfort, my friend. But once again we must ride hard and I must ask too much of you.." You unlatch the door and enter his stall, reaching out to lift your saddle from the hook on the wall and noticing that it, as well as the rest of your tack had been treated in your absence and the worn straps replaced - no doubt on Thorin's instruction. Heartbroken at the discovery, you lead the elven horse from the stall and begin to ready him in earnest.

Placing the saddle on his back, you gesture with your chin at an empty row of stalls opposite. "Thorin rode?"

Dis nods as she strokes the velvet nose now pressed eagerly into her hand, "Yes, he rode. But his company is only thirteen, including himself. He took three extra ponies for supplies."

Gathering together your saddlebags, you thread the various straps through them before turning your attention to the girth, trying desperately to keep your tone light in face of the parting that was momentarily to come. "I see. I suppose I had better even that unlucky number up for him, then. - Do you know which road they intended to take?"

Dis shakes her head, stepping aside as you tighten the buckle on the halter before double checking the rest to make sure they were tight. "No. Thorin never once discussed his plans with me. He only told me when he would depart, and now even that has changed."

You shrug, finding nothing else to delay for and at last turning to look at Dis directly, seeing your own feelings mirrored in her steely blue gaze. "No matter. I am sure thirteen dwarves will not be hard to track down. A Mûmakil would be harder."

Despite the pain in her eyes she reacts as you had hoped and laughs softly whilst nodding in agreement. "Especially with Fili and Kili in tow. I am sure Thorin is already tearing his hair out and you will intercept him only to find him completely bald."

You plaster a false expression of shock and horror on to your face, "Do not say such wicked things! His hair has always been such a pleasant distraction for me..."

She laughs again, but the smile soon dies on her lips as she reaches out for you. "I suppose you had better go and save it then, before it becomes nothing more than a memory."

You nod, your own momentary smile dying as you swallow hard and embrace her tightly, burying your face into her hair. "I am sorry to have to leave you again. I wish that I would have returned sooner and known the joy of your company still for many years."

Her grip on you tightens painfully and she nods into your shoulder, "Maybe yet you will." Eyes wet again, she pulls back to look at you and you could see by her hopeless expression that she did not hold much weight with her own statement. "I will pray to the gods to return you all safely to me again... Now go and be where you belong.... With him...." She reluctantly releases you and takes a step back as though further contact with you would only cause her more pain than she could ever hope to survive. "Look after them?"

You nod, not even trying to hold back your own tears anymore, "I will do my best."

"I know you will." She turns and barks an order to the two guards beside the wall, who were watching your exchange impassively. They both bow and push against a smooth, flat part of the rock and you watch as with a soft grinding noise another small exit from the mountain is revealed, allowing a fresh gust of air and a shaft of warm sunlight to pour into the room as the small door grinds to a halt. Dis turns back to you as you mount Nithoel, studying you closely as you shorten the stirrups. "You know, my grandmother always used to say that heartbreak and loss was an occupational hazard of loving a dwarf. I used to think that ridiculous in my youth, but I have learned better since. I am sorry it is something you too are becoming familiar with."

You sigh softly, thinking it ironic that your mother had tried to save you from that very same lesson in heartbreak - even though admittedly, she had never in an age expected you to fall in love with a dwarf. You fight a grim urge to laugh as you tried to imagine what she would have thought of your situation now. "Your grandmother was a wise woman. But I would also say that heartbreak and loss is surely a hazard of loving anyone? My parents too tried to prevent me from ever having to experience it with my own kind. A strange irony then, that they were successful in one regard and yet completely unsuccessful in another."

Gazing down at her, you desperately try to commit her face to memory. "And yet, despite the pain, I still have never been, nor could I ever be more alive then I am with Thorin. I suppose there is just no middle ground between sorrow and joy, that's all. It is either one or the other. But I do find it worth it and would never want to love anyone else but him, even for the chance of a simpler life."

She thinks over your words for a moment, lost in some bittersweet memory of long ago. "Yes.. ..You are also very wise... It _was_ worth it..." She trails off and shakes herself from her personal thoughts to gaze back at you apologetically. "Farewell then, sister. Ride fast and sure... - And may the rock beneath you never falter."

You nod, giving her a painful smile, "Farewell, Dis. My heart shall weep until I see you again." Without another word or glance you nudge Nithoel into action, leaning forward against his strong neck as he instantly springs towards the doorway and out into the fresh air.

 

* * * * * *

  
As predicted, it wasn't at all hard to find the trail. One dwarf alone on foot would have hardly posed you a problem, let alone thirteen with ponies to spare. As you had left the Blue Mountains in the bright, midday sun, it had been to the panicking feeling that Thorin had at least an eight hour head start on you, but as you had soon come across the bent and flattened brush and tundra, the feelings had soon subsided. The trail was so visible you would hardly have to slow at all to follow it, allowing you to ride hard and most likely intercept the company before sundown.

Nithoel, completely recovered from your long journey only a couple of days before, seemed to delight in being back out in the wide open expanse of Eriador - and so swift was he, that before even three hours had past you rode upon the remains of a small camp. Easing on the reins, you halt him and quickly dismount, leaving him to graze as you take a closer look around.

Keen eyes missing nothing, you prod at some scattered ashes with the tip of your boot before walking slowly around the rest of the camp. The remains of a hastily made meal were all too clear amongst the ash, as was the party's approximate size, confirmed by the maze of foot and hoof prints all too visible in the bruised grass. Shielding your eyes you squint off into the east, following the trail out of sight and frowning in slight confusion when it appears to continue in a more north north-easterly direction.

When you had first left Thorin's Halls, you had assumed he would go by the quickest and easiest route and head for Sarn Ford and from there join the Greenway to Bree - perhaps taking his ease and gathering supplies before taking the East-West road to the Misty Mountains. But if so, he was now heading in completely the wrong direction and was instead making for the Far Downs. The only explanation for this was that he intended to pass through to Erebor further north, risking the road past the Ettenmoors to where the Hoarwell cut its own perilous and icy path through the Mountains. But surely he would know that road was fraught with a danger all of its own and would not attempt to lead his company there when much safer and kinder routes were available? You snort suddenly as you question whether Thorin had any concept at all of what was insanely dangerous or not. He did intend to poke a sleeping dragon whilst numbering just thirteen, after all.

You sigh softly and make to return to Nithoel, but something out of the corner of your eye makes you pause and frown deeper. A single set of footprints led away from the rest, almost lost amidst the trampling of dwarves and horses until they reappeared more clearly a little way outside of the camp, heading in a northerly direction. More confused than ever you squat down beside one of the clearer prints and study it, perplexed. The track was as fresh as the rest, only six or so hours old, meaning for some reason or other one of the dwarves had broken away from the party and travelled north on foot by himself. But for what reason and who? Tracing the outline of the print with a finger you wonder which one of them it was. By the size of the boot it was very possible it could be Thorin, but then again you did not know who else had accompanied him, with the exception of his nephews and Gloin, and had not really paid much attention to _their_ boot size to be able to say for certain. Groaning in frustration and completely baffled, you contemplate what to do. Should you follow the group north east and hope Thorin had stayed with them, or did you now follow the lone footprints as they made their strange and unexplained journey north, in the off chance that Thorin had decided to venture alone into the wilds without protection. It did seem the type of reckless thing he would do in any case. But still, you had to choose carefully. One mistake here could cost you many days of hard travel and work as you sought to rediscover the trail of the others and catch up with them should the latter prove fruitless. You straighten up, trying to think through your options and decide on the best course of action when you are struck with a sudden thought.

' _When the time comes and you're not sure where to go, I would suggest following the road north.'_

Gandalf's puzzling statement before he had departed the Blue Mountains springs back into your mind, making you frown once more. Could he have possibly meant those words for _this_ very moment? Had he guessed that Thorin would travel north for some reason and that you would want to follow after him? Or was it Gandalf himself who had advised Thorin to go north and in doing so knew exactly where to guide you? You wonder exactly what the old Wizard's involvement was in the first place, as all these questions and more run through your mind, making you kick yourself for not finding out while you had the chance. Making a mental note to demand certain answers from him the next time you met, you mount Nithoel and guide him into a northerly heading - following the lone prints as they branch away from those of the rest of the party and sending a silent prayer up to the heavens. "I pray to all the gods you are right, Mithrandir...."

 

* * * * * *

 

As it was, Gandalf's uncanny ability to foresee and predict even the smallest and inconsequential events turned out to be accurate once again.

You had followed the scarcely visible trail as it had wound its way ever north, sometimes having to retrace your steps when it suddenly disappeared, and panicking until you found it again. So slow was the going over thick brush and heavily quilted, heather strewn moorland that it wasn't until the sun began to fade in the uttermost west that you finally caught up with him.

Scaling the rise of a small hill you pull on the reins and sit a top of it, viewing the lush valley below and the narrow, winding path that cut through it. A tiny movement catches your eye and you sag in the saddle, breathing a great sigh of relief as you spot the small yet unmistakable figure of Thorin as he traverses along it - his raven hair glinting in the dying rays of light as he continues on his way. Torn between an immense joy at finding him at last and unease over the Wizard's accurate foreknowledge, you spur Nithoel into a light trot and begin to make your descent into the valley below, trying to remain as far behind and out of sight as possible so as not to alert Thorin of your presence - but remaining close enough that you would not lose him again and would be able to rush to his aid, should he have need.

All through that night and all the next day you followed after him as he continued to traverse the path that would eventually lead him to the Grey Havens. Although your curiosity was piqued further than ever, you still did not announce yourself to him - making sure to keep out of both sight and earshot as you watched over him, but at last growing concerned when he neither stopped for food or rest despite his heavier footsteps and bowing head. Your heart breaks as you begin to question whether or not he was pushing himself to try and put as much distance between you and he as possible, hoping to lessen the chance that you would be able to follow after him. You swallow the thought down, deciding it was time to face his anger and make him aware of your presence, if only to stop him tiring himself further in a futile attempt to leave you behind. 

After scouting out ahead to ensure that no danger was lurking along or around the road, you begin searching for a suitable place to make a camp for the night - somewhere that would be relatively safe and away from the road, and also somewhere that would protect you from the rain you were sure was to come if the distant rumbles of thunder and dark, ominous clouds on the horizon were anything to go by. After half an hour of intensive searching, you ease on the reins and dismount, leaving Nithoel grazing at the sweet grass around the roots of a large Ash as you approach a likely looking cave, hollowed into the side of a sheer cliff of granite rock and shielded from sight of the road by a dense thicket of trees. 

With your hand on your sword you enter cautiously, only to find the small cave shallow, dry and free from any danger. Pleased, you begin searching for deadwood amongst the trees and before long you have a merry fire crackling in the mouth of the opening. Relieving Nithoel of his saddlebags, you order him to stay put and deposit the load in the back of the cave before setting out on foot in the direction of the road.

Back in your element in the wilds and swift of foot, it didn't take you long to reach it. Breaking out of the brush you scan the narrow track, listening intently for any sign of Thorin. Greeted by nothing but silence, your eyes pass instead over the trees that lined the trail, coming to rest on a gnarled oak with low hanging branches that spread out over the path. Nimbly climbing up to the first and widest of these, you settle yourself back against the calloused trunk to wait for him and pull your cloak around yourself to keep out the cool breeze that had sprung up to herald the approaching storm.

Before long, a deep rumble of thunder sounds overhead, and large, fat droplets of water begin to fall on the canopy of wide leaves above you - their pattering ever thicker and faster as the storm finally breaks. Pulling up your hood, you scan the road once more, anxious as to what was taking Thorin so long and wondering if he had decided to get out of the rain and rest at last, further down the road. Deciding to wait just a little longer before searching him out, you huddle deeper into your cloak and settle back against the tree trunk once more.

It was as you were deep in thought, trying to predict his reaction to your defying him and working out a way to deal with the confrontation you knew would be likely, that you heard the first sign of his approach. The distant sound of heavy footsteps, splashing along the path, comes to you on a gust of wind and you turn your head in the direction of the bend in the road. A few minutes later Thorin himself comes into sight, drenched to the bone with head bowed and face hidden deep beneath the hood of the cloak he now held so tightly around himself. You feel a pang of longing and hurt at the sight of him, noticing that he seemed twice as weary now as he had when you had left him only a short while ago - even as if he had a great and invisible weight hanging around his neck that was only getting heavier with every step he took.

You sigh sadly and watch him come closer and closer - so lost in his thoughts was he that he remained totally unaware of your presence, even as he passed beneath the very bough in which you sat. Deliberating on how best to announce yourself and coming up with no satisfactory plan, he had walked by completely before you groan and call out to him, your voice soft. "Thorin..."

Instantly his body tenses and he pauses in mid-stride, leaving you staring at the back of his head as you wait for him to either turn around or speak. A few long moments of silence pass by, broken by nothing but the mourning howl of the wind and the pitter-patter of the rain as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you had indeed defied him and that you had followed. His voice, when it comes is dangerously calm and soft, forcing you to strain to catch every word that dripped with his barely restrained anger. " _Why_? Why would you do this to me?"

When you don't respond he finally turns, his darkly shadowed eyes searching you out until they at last come to rest on you, sitting uneasily in the canopy above him. He lowers his hood, his heartbreak clear behind the anger in his eyes as he looks at last upon your face. 

Avoiding his penetrating glare, your grip tightens on the wet bark and you swing yourself down gracefully from the branch to land with silent feet in the lane before him. Straightening up to brush yourself off, you lower your hood and finally lift your chin to face his anger. "I told you I would follow you if I had to."

His jaw clenches and works as he struggles to spit his words out. "You do not feel for me as you said, then?"

You raise a brow, your heart thudding dully behind your ribs at the accusation in his tone. "Of course I do. I love you more than anything in the world - more than life itself. And I always have. But I do not see what-"

"Then why would you defy me!? Have I not only ever made this _one_ request of you? And yet you can not even bring yourself to grant it for me!"

Your eyes narrow, and the anger and indignation you feel over his perceived doubt burns at your skin. "I have defied you and chosen to ignore your request for that very reason, do you not see!? I love you too much to stay behind! Which part of all that we have discussed since my return did you fail to understand, Thorin!?"

He breathes deeply through his nose, his chest heaving as he tries desperately to keep himself in check. You take advantage of his momentary silence to press your argument further, "As I see it, your grievance works both ways. So many years I spent without you, thinking that you could never possibly feel for me as I do for you, and that if I returned the truth in my heart would only cause us both sorrow and heartbreak. But against all imagining I find that you do and you tell me you love me too - only then to leave me once more just when I thought that all my hopes and dreams had come true! Can you _ever_ comprehend how much that hurt me?" You pull his damp and creased letter from your pocket and brandish it in his face, almost hysterical in your attempt to make him understand. "Can you comprehend how much _this_ hurts me!?"

A stab of pain crosses his face as he recognises his own hand and the words he had left for you, but he quickly pushes it aside in his want to get through to you. "Can _you_ comprehend how much you are hurting _me_ right now, by choosing to defy me and follow despite my wishes?"

You take a step closer to him and nod earnestly. "Yes, I can. I have always been only too aware of the pain I have caused you and am yet to cause you. I grieve for it and feel it as if it were my own, as I always have. However, only one choice ends in heartbreak for both, does it not? Separation. And that is the course _you_ would have chosen for us. _I,_  on the other hand, would rather spend whatever time I have left, together with you. To live, love or die as the fates decide."

You reach out hesitantly to rest your palm against his cheek, "I have never meant anything so much in my life as when I told you I would rather die with you than without you."

His eyes meet with yours and he can see your absolute conviction and honestly all too clearly, shining in their depths. He shakes his head, his voice finally breaking with the weight of his despair and cutting right through you as he reaches out to grasp your face firmly in his hands and gaze at you imploringly - making one final, desperate attempt to get you see it from his point of view. "My love... I beg of you...Don't do this to me... Go back to the mountains..."

You return his gaze defiant and resolute. "Only if you abandon this quest and accompany me, will I return."

He closes his eyes against his pain, face lined with torment as he rests his brow against yours. Gently, you trace his cheek with your fingertips and breathe deeply as you too let your eyes flutter closed. "Would you have me add another heartbreak, perhaps the greatest one of all, to the growing list of regrets and hurts I now harbour? No. I will not be parted from you again, Thorin. I could not bear it. Nor will I stay behind and let you bear this burden alone. Do you truly think that I could face each day not knowing if you still lived, or if you were safe? I thought you dead once and I will not put myself through that agony ever again. I would go mad or worse, my love."

When he doesn't respond or relent you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and open your eyes, finding his already open and filled with anguish and despair as he gazes back at you. You sigh softly as you rub your nose against his, "Answer me just one question?" He sighs and nods once and you continue, "If our roles were reversed...Would _you_ have stayed behind?"  
                       
He groans softly in defeat, knowing he had finally been trapped and unable to find any way out of it except by speaking a lie that you would see right through in any case. His eyes flick between both of yours and he shakes his head in resignation, his voice a whisper of deepest emotion. "I would follow you into the dark fires of the necromancer himself."

You nod, swallowing hard past the tightness of your throat. "I know. So, forgive me if I am willing to do the same in return."

He gazes at you silently for a moment before his grip on your chin tightens, startling you as caught by a sudden impulse his lips meet yours, no longer awkward and unsure as they had been the night before, but hungry and desperate. You gasp softly in surprise, the small sound lost as his mouth quickly seeks to claim your own, his lips questing for a dominance that you unreservedly give him as you allow yourself to submit to his will. One hand tightens at your waist, the other losing itself in the tangles of your wet hair as he pulls you even closer and deepens the kiss, sending your heart racing beneath your heaving breast and your arguments scattering into the wind as you press harder against him and respond with a fervour all of your own.

Blissfully dizzy with the intensity of his passion and the ardour it was inspiring in you, you moan softly into his mouth, making him pause and leave a last lingering kiss to the corner of your lips before tearing himself away from you. Desperate for air, you still find yourself disappointed when he does and you're unable to stop the small sound of protest from leaving your slightly swollen lips as he pulls back, his thumb tracing across your jaw.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, grateful when the fog of your mind clears a little as the cool evening air fills your starving lungs. Your gaze flicks to his again to find him watching you still, the fight now gone from his darkened eyes to be replaced by resigned sorrow. You reach up to tuck a strand of wet, silver hair over his shoulder as you lean in to press another tender kiss to his lips, your need for him stronger than ever. "Don't leave me behind ever again.."

His head sinks wearily, his emotional state taking its toll and making him sag against you. "Together, then..."      

You wrap an arm around him in concern, supporting his considerable weight as best you can as you continue to caress his cold cheek. "Thank you."

He nods and leans desperately into your touch, making your heart break at seeing him so broken and vulnerable; even more so in the knowledge that it was all through your own doing. "Come, my love. There is a small cave a little further along the road and I already have a camp set up. You need to get warm and take some food and rest." 

He makes no protest as you reach for his hand and twine your fingers with his, tugging gently to spur him into a walk. He falls into step at your side and the ache in your chest spreads ever further as he slips into a brooding silence all too reminiscent of your childhood.

As he stumbles along beside you, you press closer to him and squeeze his hand, trying to offer support and comfort, but not really knowing if in fact you were only causing him more pain. Still, he follows you blindly from the road, letting you lead him back through the brush and the trees to the sheer cliff of rock, not really seeing anything or paying any attention at all to his surroundings until you reach the cave. Nithoel's head rises up from his grazing as he hears you approach and he nickers softly in greeting. You give his rain soaked shoulder a soft pat as you pass him by and lead Thorin into the small hollow, only releasing his hand to throw a few more sticks on to the fire, desperate to make him comfortable. 

He gazes around sullenly for a moment before ridding himself of his wet cloak and depositing his bag on the dusty floor. Quickly spreading out his bedroll next to the fire, he settles into it with a soft groan while you too remove your cloak and coat and set about rummaging around in a bag for some of the supplies Dis had acquired for you.

Thorin takes to watching you in silence as you set about getting a decent meal together for him, his eyes never leaving your face even once as you cover a couple of large potatoes in the glowing embers before searching out some meat to accompany them. 

Settling on the other side of the fire with a small frying pan, you neatly place a dozen fat sausages and two large mutton chops into it before resting it against the large, flat rocks you had used to bank the fire. Feeling awkward under his penetrating gaze, you take to staring into the hot coals as you gently turn the meat, knowing since childhood to let Thorin have peace to deal with his thoughts whenever one of his moods took him. 

You were surprised then when he, seeming almost as uncomfortable with the silence as you yourself, broke it first. "How long have you been following me?"

You turn the sausages slowly and look up to find him resting on his elbow and still gazing at you intently. "I left Dis at noon yesterday and had caught up with you by sundown. I have followed you since."

He raises a brow in apparent surprise at how quickly you had managed to track him down. "And why did you not make yourself known to me?"

You shrug, halving some large, ripe tomatoes with your hunting knife and adding them to the pan to let them fry in the juice from the meat. "Because I knew you would be angry and hurt when I did, and it is never my intention to make you feel as such, despite there being enough proof to the contrary." 

He pushes himself into a sitting position the better to see you and holds his large hands out towards the flames. "So why now?"

You sigh softly and pull a small loaf of bread and a flask of ale from your bag. "Because I would sooner bear your anger than watch you starve or push yourself to the limit when it is needless and all for naught."

He gazes at you in stunned silence for a while, unnerved as always by your accurate insight into his reasoning and your obvious perception over why he had not wanted to stop until he had put as many miles between himself and the Blue Mountains as possible. Eventually he sighs, his eyes downcast into the flames. "I am not angry with you. Not really. I find such a thing to be impossible. I am only hurt and afraid."

You lift your gaze back to him, eyes softening at his words and amazed at how freely he had offered his feelings of vulnerability to you with the admission. "As am I."

He sighs deeply and you let your words trail off into silence as you withdraw the pan from the fire and place it between you before unearthing a baked potato and offering it to him along with the loaf and flask of ale. He nods in thanks, tearing the small roll in half and handing a piece back to you as you dig out your own potato and then settle down next to him.

The storm outside continues to rage as you both eat in silence, the rain now becoming so heavy that even Nithoel gave up on his grazing to stand instead in the mouth of the cave, his tail firmly between his legs and head bowed. You silently thank the gods that the weather had at least held off until you had tracked Thorin down, knowing that the storm would have washed all traces of him away and prevented you from following.

Seeming to read your mind, Thorin throws a clean mutton bone back into the pan. "I'm curious .... How did you know it was I who had travelled north?"

You snort around a mouthful of sausage, deciding it maybe wouldn't ease the situation if you told him that you thought only he could be reckless enough to wander off into the wilds on his own. Instead, you chew thoughtfully for a moment, trying to come up with a more diplomatic response before swallowing and replying. "I was not sure it _was_ you."

He raises a brow questioningly and you continue. "When I found your camp, none of the tracks made sense, because not a single one continued in the direction I had anticipated. However, when I spotted your trail leading north away from the others, I was curious and decided to follow in the off chance it was you. Also, Mithrandir had mentioned something to me about going north before he left. I didn't understand what he meant at the time, but when I was unsure of which path to take I decided to follow his advice. And he was right, as always." 

Thorin scowls at the flames, "Gandalf told you to head north?"

When you nod he sighs, attacking a piece of bread with venom. "It seems as though the Wizard continues to plot and scheme when he should leave well alone." You cast him a querying glance and he shrugs. "He has been most adamant that I should change my mind regarding your accompanying me. Of course, I refused to listen and we argued about it before he left. It would appear though, that my concerns fell on deaf ears." He breaks off and glares silently into the night, leaving you to remember the very argument that yourself and Gimli had witnessed between the two in the forge - glad to have its subject finally revealed to you. You wonder suddenly why the old man was so desperate to have you accompany Thorin, and why he was so willing to defy his wishes to ensure it. You frown, more confused than ever as you glance up at the dwarf beside you. "Whatever his reasons, I have learned it is always best to heed the Wizard's advice, for he does not often lead lead us astray."

Thorin snorts and keeps his opinions to himself as you take another bite of bread and meat. "I am curious to know just what his involvement is in this venture of yours, though. And why you have left your company to travel in the wrong direction while you head out here into the middle of nowhere by yourself."

Thorin takes a hearty draught of ale from the flask and settles back into his blankets, apparently having eaten his fill at last. He makes no comment as he watches you brush the crumbs from yourself and hasten to tidy the things away and return them to your bags. You glance sideways at him as you remove the still damp outer layers of your gear and extract your blankets from another bag. "What exactly is your plan?"

He turns on his side to face you as you spread your bed roll out beside his, propping himself up on an elbow. "I am travelling north to a meeting of our seven clans and kin to try and gather support."

You raise a brow in surprise as you slip into your blankets. "And where exactly is this meeting?"

"There is a colony in the Ered Luin. It is at their southernmost outpost where we will meet, a week from now."

"Onar's people?"

Thorin looks up at you in surprise, "Yes. You know him?"

You shake your head, shifting to get comfortable. "I have never met him. I only know of him through those of my kin that patrol his borders and the roads to the north. Apparently he can be most unpleasant and difficult to deal with."

Thorin nods in quick agreement. "Onar does not like outsiders. He rarely, if ever leaves his halls, nor does he have much dealings with anyone other than us, except in gravest need. What you have heard is true and he can be set in his ways and most difficult at times. Even towards the other clans. Do not ever look for welcome from him."

You lean up on an arm and tentatively reach out for one of his braids, twining it around your finger as you are struck by a sudden interest. "Are many of your kind the same as he, then? It's just that I have never really had any dealings with dwarves outside of your clan, and you have always seemed most liberal in your views."

He smiles softly for the first time, seeming amused by both your hesitant affections and your interest. "You _could_ say my kin are quite liberal, as far as dwarves go. No matter where we have delved our halls, we have always maintained an amicable relationship with men, for it was always of great benefit to both. My grandfather knew this and worked to further improve relations, to the point where we soon counted many amongst the men of Dale as friends, such as your father. That is why we have flourished for the most part." 

He finds your jaw and rubs across it with a gentle thumb, returning the attention you sought from him without thinking. "There are also a few others of like mind, who remember the old alliances and seek to build new ones. But for the most part, my kind keep to themselves and their own business and do not look for friendship with any but their own, if at all."

"I see." You think over his words as he continues to caress your jaw. "And the meeting? Do you think you will get their backing?"

Thorin shrugs, "No harm in trying."

You frown a little as you wind his hair around your little finger. "So, how exactly did all this come about? What are your plans?"

He shifts slightly and frowns, "I suppose it all comes back to Gandalf... I have often crossed his path on my travels and had never spoken more than a few polite words to him in all that time. But the Mountain had been growing more heavily on my mind for months and I had the strangest urge to seek the Wizard out. Chance favoured me then, when one night soon after, I decided to take my ease in Bree only to find he was also there, rooming in the Prancing Pony. Before I could even say a word, he came over to me and told me that he'd had an odd inclination to pay me a visit and discuss important matters with me. Finding it to be of great coincidence that he should have felt the same, I of course invited him to join us in my halls whenever he could spare the time, not wanting to discuss such business within range of the sharp ears and loose tongues of Bree.

Before the fortnight was out he arrived in the night and we took council together. I told him of my plans and asked for his thoughts and advice. To my surprise he did not attempt to sway me, but instead offered encouragement and told me to strike whilst the iron was hot. He did, however cast aside any notions I had of raising an army to march on the Mountain, seeming to think it best to take a small group in stealth to scout out the situation first. He also suggested employing someone who would, once we reached it, be able to do just that and perhaps be able to find a way inside and see if the dragon still lived. I asked where I would find such a person, but he told me that if it pleased me, he himself would make all the necessary arrangements. After that he left, telling me that perhaps he too would join us on our journey, and that he would return within a few days. So glad was I at the thought of him accompanying us, that I agreed with his suggestions and did not question him.

And that was three weeks ago." He gazes long at you, blue eyes reflecting the light of the fire in their crystal depths. "By another strange coincidence, the night he finally came back was the night you yourself returned. "

You lose yourself in his gaze, feeling ever more as though fate was guiding you all upon the same path and finding it both comforting and unnerving. "As I have already told you, the urge to return to you had been becoming unbearable for weeks. I would have returned even if Mithrandir had not sought me out and told me he was planning to visit you. Therefore, I can not decide if destiny has an unnaturally keen interest in us, or if we are all subject to the will of a Wizard."

"I have been of the same mind of late."

You sigh, pushing the thought away for later consideration. "So, did he find this person?"

He nods, "It would seem so, for we are to meet with him in the Shire."

"The _Shire_!? But why there?"

"I can not say. But that is the direction in which my company is headed, and where I too will travel after speaking with my kin." His hand suddenly drops from your cheek as he sits up to rid himself of his jerkin and mail shirt. "Now you know as much as I, and seeing as neither of us have slept for two days, then perhaps we should try to get some rest?" 

You nod in agreement and bite back the remainder of your questions in light of your mutual fatigue, figuring they could wait. You roll over with a sigh and turn your back on the fire and on him, happy that he seemed marginally more amicable than he had a only a short while ago and had at least stopped shouting at you. Therefore, you would not impose yourself on him and risk him slipping back into one of his moods, despite your endless yearning to feel close to him. Tonight, you would be more than content just to have him near.

You were surprised then, when once stripped to his shirt and breeches, he sinks back into his blankets, also seeming surprised at the small, yet unusual distance you had purposely left between you. He pauses for a moment, unsure and still too new to being intimate with anyone to judge how he would be received. Deciding at last to test the water, he hesitantly snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him when you seem to make no protest.

Easing back against his broad chest you allow yourself to relax into the embrace, grateful for his unexpected affection and warmth. Gaining in confidence in light of your positive reception, he gently brushes back your hair and presses a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear, causing you to tremble ever so slightly at the touch and press against him even harder.

Raising a brow in amusement at your reactions to him, he continues to kiss experimentally along your neck and jaw, his breath warm against your ear and his beard tickling your already sensitive skin.

Eyes closed, you groan softly and twine your fingers with those resting against your stomach. "Thorin?"

He pauses in his attentions, voice soft in your ear. "Hmm?"

You shiver slightly and try to control the pounding in your chest. "Unless you wish to not get even the slightest amount of sleep tonight, then I would suggest that you desist from teasing me like this."

He grins into your skin and the amusement in his voice is clear. "Forgive me. I did not think I would get the chance again ... And I find myself still in awe of being able to do _this._ " His fingers grasp your chin as he gently turns your head to place a warm kiss to your lips, doing nothing to ease the desire boiling in your blood. "And even more in awe of _this_ when I do." He extricates his hand from yours to press it against your heart, feeling it skip beneath his touch.

You smile softly at his words, feeling exactly the same as he and completely mesmerised as always by both him and the feelings he inspired in you. "I know, my love. But it _is_ most distracting. Especially since you are so determined that we rest."

His grin widens and you can't help but return it as he leans forward, the better to look at you. "I had no idea you were so eager to bind yourself to me."

You shrug, your tone matter of fact as you try to control the frantic rhythm of your heart. "I am already bound to you, Thorin."

He exhales softly and tightens his arm around you, resting his cheek against yours. "Do you ever think of our future?"

You nod, voice soft. "All the time."

He absentmindedly toys with your fingers and urges you to continue, "And? What do you imagine it to be?"

You pause to contemplate your answer carefully, afraid of saying the wrong thing. "My thoughts have always been nothing more than a childish fantasy, Thorin. Where even the impossible becomes easy. They are daydreams borne out of separation, and I am afraid that they will never be granted reality, no matter how much I wish otherwise."

Thorin frowns and shakes his head, enveloping you completely in a protective embrace. "Never think that. If you desire it, then impossible or no I will see it done. I give you my word. And you know that I never-"

You sigh, cutting him off, "- Never break your promises. I remember."

He smiles and presses a tender kiss to your cheek before settling in behind you and holding you close, leaving you to think that maybe there was one promise he would yet not be able to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suilaid, Nithoel. Im gelir ceni ad lín. - Greetings, Nithoel. I am happy to see you again.


	8. Zayûgân

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way to love anything is to realise that it might be lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! First of all I would like to apologise for the ridiculous delay with this chapter. Unfortunately, life just caught up and bit me in the ass. But rest assured, I will most definitely be completing this fic, for any who care, and I promise to not leave such long delays between updates in the future. Also, I hope you enjoy this last chapter before the start of the journey. From here on, I will mainly be following the movies. Happy reading!

 

By dawn the following day, the rain had cleared, leaving the sky crystal pale and whitewashed in the dim early morning light. Waking to the point of semi consciousness, you yawn into Thorin's neck, frowning when a grating noise cuts through your sleepy haze and prevents you from slipping back into your comfortable slumber. Rousing yourself irritably, you emerge from under Thorin's thick blanket of hair, blinking rapidly and noticing you had both returned to your customary sleeping position sometime during the night, with you held firmly against his chest and using him as a solid, yet comfortable mattress. As the memories of the previous evening come flooding back to mind, you smile to yourself and gently pull back in his arms to look up at him, finding him stretched out on his back, still fast asleep and snoring heavily.

You laugh quietly to yourself upon discovering the source of your disturbance and reach up a gentle hand to brush the stray wisps of hair from his cheek, your heart swelling painfully with love for him and the carefree and unburdened expression he wore during sleep. Settling back against his chest you watch him for a long while, comforted by the rise and fall of his steady breathing and finding him especially beautiful in his vulnerable state. Taking the opportunity to study him closely, you find yourself enchanted by a certain yet unexpected innocence that shone from within him that you had never really noticed there before, and you begin to question if you could ever tire of looking at him or yet fail to discover something new whenever you did - finding him as much of a fascination now as you had when you had first met.

Sighing wistfully, you lean in to gently kiss his brow and then desperate not to wake him, you carefully extricate yourself from his firm and protective embrace with the intention of making him some breakfast.

Not until the sun had fully risen, its golden rays shining brightly into your small refuge and upon his face, did Thorin's snores soften and finally subside as he begins to stir from his rest. The fire stoked and breakfast well on its way, you abandon your frying pan in the edge of the flames, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth as you hasten to lay once more by his side. Still drifting on the edge of sleep, he mumbles your name and reaches for you, his arms tightening automatically around your waist as he subconsciously pulls you close again.

Your deepest feelings of love for him growing impossibly by the second, you lean in and press your lips to his cheek, soft and tender - further encouraged when he responds almost immediately, pulling you even closer. A small smile of recognition creases the corners of his mouth as he fully wakes, and refusing to open his eyes just yet, he blindly reaches up a hand to trace the backs of his fingers along your jaw, his voice husky from sleep. "Am I dead? For surely this must be what heaven feels like?"

You grin into the coarse hair of his beard and shake your head, "No, my love. You are still very much alive. But I could show you what heaven feels like, if you wish it."

He laughs deep within his throat and raises a brow over one firmly closed eye, seeming to find your half hearted and teasing attempts at seduction deeply amusing. "Still struggling against propriety, I see.."

You snort softly and return your lips to his cheek. "I thought we had already discussed that I have none."

He murmurs a soft noise of agreement and pulls you tighter against his chest as he turns his head and searches out your lips instead. Fulfilling his wish, you gently press your mouth to his, reeling and breathless as he quickly leans into your kiss and deepens it to send your heart racing. Tangling yourself with him, you reach up to lose your hands in the long waves of his hair, holding him firmly in place as he seeks to claim your mouth with his own.

Groaning quietly in satisfaction and surprise at getting your way with him, you close your eyes and relax into his arms - these small, intimate moments spent together only serving to bind you more tightly to him than ever before.

His kiss becomes slower and deeper still as he too forgoes the instinctual need for gratification and instead gives himself over to the search for a closeness he so desperately needed and knew without a doubt that he would only ever find with you. Opening up your heart, you offer it all to him freely, along with your understanding - knowing that he had experienced little of either in his life and finding a need to give him as much as you could now to compensate for both it _and_ the many long years you yourself had denied him of such affection by needless choice.

His hand running up the full length of your spine makes you tremble when he eventually pulls back and breaks the kiss gently, allowing you both to breathe freely again. Flushed and gasping, you rest nose to nose with him and he opens his eyes to you at last, giving a soft sigh of contentment as he begins to rub small circles into the supple skin of your shoulder. "I am never going to survive you.."

Running your fingers soothingly through his hair, you give him a tender smile, your feelings of bliss bringing you a peace you hadn't known in an age. "Nor I you. But what a death it will be."

He hums in agreement as his large, warm hand continues to massage its way across to the back of your neck. "Such a pleasant way to wake too, believe me.."

Your smile widens as you press another small kiss to the tip of his large nose. "I was making the most of actually getting to wake with you, Thorin. It has been a long time."

"Too long."

You nod in agreement, tracing the outline of his ear with your fingertips and reacquainting yourself with the smallest things about him that used to be so utterly familiar to you. "So very beautiful..."

Despite the shining intensity in his eyes, he colours slightly under your fingertips, unused to anyone speaking such bold words to him. "Not that I am not grateful for them, but you do have the strangest tastes, dear one."

Snorting, you shake your head and raise a sceptical brow. "I have always thought you far beyond beautiful, Thorin. As any female that has two good eyes in her head would."

He shifts under you in embarrassment at your words, dropping his eyes to your throat in his awkwardness and mumbling softly. "As long as _you_ find me so..."

"I do." You smile again, awed at being able to get such reactions from him and sure that no one else, with the exception of maybe Dis would ever be privy to any such displays of softness or feeling from the usually stern and serious dwarf. That thought alone makes you feel especially close to him, even as you seek to ease his discomfort. "Come. Breakfast is ready..."

Giving him one last kiss, you reluctantly release him and rise to return to your cooking, allowing him to sit up at last and breathe in the appetising smells permeating the small cave. "Taking care of me again?"

You smile quietly, crouching down beside the flames and prodding experimentally at a large field mushroom sizzling loudly in the pan. Satisfied, you begin making him up a plate of bacon, eggs and the last of the cold sausages from the previous night. "And why shouldn't I?" You hand the plate over to him along with a stack of toasted bread and he watches you thoughtfully as you half fill a small kettle from your water skin and place it over the fire to boil.

"It is something I am not so familiar with."

You glance up from your saddle bags, a small wooden box of shire-grown tea in your grasp. "What isn't?"

"Being taken care of."

Your eyes soften as you set about making the tea, thinking over his words until the water had boiled enough for you to steep the leaves. "I would change that .... If you will let me." 

He sighs in frustration, seeming to struggle to find the words and waiting until you had carried over two battered tin mugs of the steaming liquid and settled down beside him again before replying. "Old habits die hard, dear one."

You shrug, "Maybe so. But I am not about to let you have everything your own way, Thorin Oakenshield. You still may not want to let me share your burdens, I know .. Even though I would wish for nothing else than to ease the vast weight of the responsibility you always shoulder. Not only in recompense for my adding to it, but because I adore you with all my heart."

He smiles, his face partially obscured by the thick waves of sleep tangled hair that cascaded from his shoulders like a midnight waterfall. "The feeling is mutual. That is why I have never once thought of any responsibility I have towards you as being a burden. Rather that you have always eased the pressure I felt and feel for the simple reason you make me incredibly happy and your company is of great comfort to me. However, that does not mean that I still do not feel a great fear of what may become of you in your determination to put yourself at risk for my sake."

Touched, you give him a small smile, "Do not weary yourself over much with such thoughts, then. Nothing in the future is certain, and fearing events that may never come to pass is always unwise and will only cause stress when there are more important things to consider. Besides, I am not ready to do anything impressively reckless and noble in your defence just yet and for now I am more than content to be at your side and make you the occasional meal. Do you think you can live with that much care at least?" You nudge him gently in the ribs to force another smile out of him, gladdened when he complies, giving you a nod and a small grin.

"I think I will manage that much, yes." Shifting to get more comfortable, he takes a bite of his breakfast and regards you mischievously from the corner of his eye, "Impressively reckless and noble, though? I can not imagine from where you would get such traits."

You laugh softly and his smirk grows, "I suppose they must have been nurtured by spending so much time with a certain dwarf when I was extremely young and impressionable."

"Anyone I would know?"

You snort with renewed laughter around a mouthful of food as you settle down to finish your breakfast before it became any colder. Leaning into his side for nothing other than easy companionship, you eat your fill and clear your plate before placing it down on the ground beside you and reaching for your mug.  
Wrapping your hands around it for the warmth, you take a grateful sip of the hot tea before you turn to him again. "So. What do you intend to do? We have plenty of time. Would you like to rest here for the day, or do you mean to continue?"

He chews thoughtfully for a moment longer and swallows, eating his own breakfast with great enthusiasm. "I am well rested enough to continue, thanks to your exceptional care of me...  And of course, your unsurpassable cooking skills."

You grin into your mug, colouring ever so slightly at the compliment, "Very well. I am glad you find enjoyment in my cooking at least. Although, if my memory serves me correct, you are not such a bad cook yourself?"

He winks in answer and once finished, stands with a soft groan to help you clear away the breakfast things and the bedrolls, "We dwarves love eating so much that I think it becomes one of the first things we learn."

"One trait that I _definitely_ inherited from you, my love."

He chuckles quietly and hands you your blankets before turning to douse the fire. "Only the one?"

Packing the blankets back in their bags, you hoist your tack up into your arms and glance at him over your shoulder with a sly grin, "Now that you mention it, let's see ... I am also charming, fierce, honourable, extremely witty, intelligent and obviously quite modest. So that would bring the grand total of traits I inherited from _you_ up to ....... Yes.. One."

A moment of silence descends as he visibly deflates and then sizes you up with raised brow - and you're unable to keep the wicked grin from ghosting your lips as the look of surprised indignation slips from his face, his expression turning into something altogether more menacing in light of your amusement. You tense when he suddenly growls deep within his chest and prepares to spring, his eyes now those of a wild and hungry predator with its pray in plain sight. Squealing with a mixture of fright and laughter, you instantly jump into action and dash from the cave and out into the bright sunshine, barely getting more than a few feet before strong arms ensnare you in an iron grip as they wrap around your waist from behind.

Laughing heartily, Thorin presses a firm kiss to the side of your neck, his voice gruff and warm in your ear. "You neglected to mention stubborn, hot tempered, obstinate and _extremely_ irritating."

Still giggling softly, you relax into his unbreakable hold, "That is because we were discussing _my_ traits, Thorin. Not _yours_."

"Harsh." He presses a last kiss to your ear and releases you, removing the saddle from your arms instead and carrying it over to where Nithoel was grazing contently in the morning light. "I think I preferred _My Lord_ to this new found need to offer me insult, little traitor!"

You bite your lip and grin at his back, "You were the one who requested that I not treat you so deferentially! Have you changed your mind, _my king_?"

He snorts and eyes you warily as you curtsey clumsily before stepping up to his side. "No... But I must ask if I am really so bad?"

Your smile softens and you shake your head earnestly as he lifts Nithoel's saddle on to his back for you. "Of course not. I was only speaking in jest. I adore you just the way you are and I always have. Although I do much prefer it when you're not shouting at me, I have to admit."

He glances over at you tenderly, "If I did not care for you so much, then I would never have cause. Besides, it's not as if you never give me as good in return. You were always the only one to ever think to berate me, even when you were nothing but a babe."

"Well, if I did not care for _you_ so much, I would never have cause either."

Smiling and patting your shoulder he leaves you to the saddle and heads back to the hollow for the bags. "Askâd?"

"Hmm?" You look up from the girth to find him watching you from the opening of the cave. His eyes soften, "Thank you."

You frown, confused, "For what?"

"For returning to me and making me remember what it is to laugh and be happy. _And_ for saving me from myself and braving my anger to care for me when I needed it the most."

Swallowing hard past the sudden lump in your throat, you nod in recognition of his thanks. "You have always done the same for me."

He smiles once more and the disappears into the cave, leaving you to think once more on his words as you finish with the remainder of the tack. Once both yours and Thorin's bags were attached tightly to their straps, you spring up lightly to settle yourself upon Nithoel's back and seating yourself further forward than usual in the saddle, you reach out a hand to him to help him mount, raising a questioning brow when he hesitates, unsure. "What is it?"

Thorin eyes the huge elven horse with trepidation, "I am not overly fond of riding at the best of times, and I do prefer a pony when needs dictate I must."

You raise a brow, once more amazed at how easily he was willing to openly admit his fears to you, and as always, seeking to allay those fears. "Well, we have plenty of time. We can walk if you wish? It just seems ridiculous to do so when we have Nithoel."

He shakes his head and gives you a small smile, still hesitating. "No. You are right. We should save our strength."

You nod, stretching your hand out further, "I will not let you fall..."

His eyes meet yours and the warmth he finds there strengthens his resolve. Grasping your hand tightly, he allows you to help boost him into the saddle behind you and once seated, he wraps his arms tight around your waist and leans in close. Settling back against the comfort of his broad chest, you smile softly to yourself as you urge Nithoel back in the direction of the road. 

******

For two days you continued your way north at a leisurely pace, finding no need for haste due to the fact that Thorin had needlessly set out from the Blue Mountains far earlier than planned, giving you the time to take it easy and rest often. The journey passed quickly for you in your happiness at being alone with him once more in relative safety. His lighter mood also persevered as you both seemed to equally delight in the other's companionship and conversation and the laughter rang out loud and often as you reacquainted yourselves and got to know one another all over again.

But as always, where it concerned you and he, this brief spell of happiness would not be set to last, and as you left the mountains behind and drew ever closer to the coast, the fine weather of the last two days worsened once more to be replaced by a thick blanket of cloud ladened with a fine drizzle that had you soaked to the bone within minutes and shivering in the cooler westerly breeze that had sprung up and whipped across the wide open tundra from the ocean. You continued onwards as long as was possible in the desperate attempt to find somewhere to camp that was more sheltered from the elements, but when the light finally faded and you lost sight of the road, you admitted defeat for fear of Nithoel losing his footing in the deep crevices of the dark, wet,  heather-filled moorland.

Late that night, the third day of your journey, found you with your backs to the only shelter you could find in the vast plain - a small copse of weathered bushes set sparse and dismal amongst the springy, fragrant heather. Using one of your blankets spread across the gorse as a makeshift tent, you wrapped your cloaks tight around yourselves and ate a frugal dinner of dried strips of meat washed down with bitter rainwater. Staring out into the black emptiness of the moor, you shivered as the fine mist turned to heavier droplets that threatened to further wash away any hope and happiness you had felt more quickly than it could be gained.

Thorin, as hardy as he was, seemed at least unaffected by the sharp drop in temperature and you huddled close against him, grateful for his warmth when he wrapped his mantle tight about you and held you firmly to him. All through the night he kept careful watch for any signs of danger, neither sleeping nor moving as he gently stroked your hair and gazed long upon your face while you slumbered fitfully against his shoulder.

As soon as the day broke, you set out once more into the relentless rain and unforgiving wind, glad to leave the restless night behind. Travelling in gloomy silence now, you set about rediscovering the road and upon doing so, set a purposeful and brisk pace as it wound onwards in a more north westerly direction - feeling a quiet urgency to find more adequate shelter along the way where you could at the very least see out the rain by a fire and with a hot meal. All through the day and into the evening you travelled without stopping or speaking, leaving each to his own thoughts while all the time being more than aware of Thorin's thick arms around your waist and the large hands that rested so easily against your stomach. Still, it was not until long after nightfall that you at all felt any inclination to break the silence or otherwise acknowledge him.

Passing by the partial shelter of a small group of hills, a sudden gust of cool, salty air hits you, fresh and inviting, clearing the last of the rain that had persisted and followed you north throughout the day and bringing with it the plaintive cry of a gull as it whirled and circled on the updraughts somewhere high overhead.

Smiling for the first time in what felt like an age, you spur Nithoel into a swift canter and soon come upon a most welcome sight through the darkness.

Two large spires of rock stood like ancient sentinels at the mouth of the River Lhûn, guarding the valley in their midst and resting against the sheer cliffs that rose up to meet them from either bank of a large harbour. Leaving the road, you scale a small rise and come to a sharp stop as the ground suddenly falls away on the cliff edge to plummet into the surf hundreds of feet below. Breathing in deep lungfuls of the tangy sea air, you gaze down into the fair havens nestled at the foot of the cliffs.

A multitude of bright lanterns twinkled like stars and dusted the side of each drop, illuminating the many elegant houses and fair halls that carved into and became one with the rock face before their light spilled out softly over the crystal waters of the cove. Your smile widening at the glad sight, you turn in the saddle to glance at Thorin over your shoulder, faltering slightly when you see that he too is regarding the scene with the utmost displeasure.  "You know, we could-"

"No."

His eyes flick to yours as he cuts you off mid-sentence, guessing your thoughts without the slightest effort.

You frown softly, "But Círdan would-"

"No." He raises a brow, his eyes shining in response to your brooding expression.

"And why not?"

The disbelief over how you could ever ask such a foolish question of him is plain in his expression as he answers, "Because I would sooner burn myself alive than spend the night in the company of elves?"

Frustrated beyond belief, you dismount, two days of constant rain, freezing temperatures with little food or sleep all catching up with you at once as you turn to regard his indifferent expression with a steely gaze - finding your darkened and fragile mood already at breaking point. " _You_ may sooner want to burn yourself alive than welcome refreshment, a soft bed and a hot bath, but _I_ would not!"

He follows you out of the saddle, stretching gratefully when his feet hit solid ground - a small smirk crossing his face as he regards your folded arms and icy glare with an expression that does nothing to help smooth the delicate situation as you continue, getting angrier by the second. "And I would say a hot bath wouldn't do _you_ much harm, either!"

Instead of the satisfaction you had hoped to gain by mildly insulting him, you are only made to feel even more outraged when instead of wiping the smirk from his face, it only grows wider. He chuckles softly at your angry pout and seemingly unable to resist, he surprises you by reaching out for you and pulling you close against him.  "The answer is still no, dear one."

Almost beside yourself with temper, you squirm free of his embrace and step back before he could further distract you from your attempt to make him see sense.  "You know your brooding silences and changes in mood are so frustrating, Thorin... And why do you _always_ have to be so.... so..."

He raises a brow, waiting for you to spit it out.

"..... _Stubborn_...." 

He gazes back at you placidly with soft eyes, taking in your muddy face, tangled hair and dirty, damp gear as you begin to unfasten your saddlebags from their straps - finding you beyond desirable in your anger and unkempt state and more beautiful to him than ever before. He reaches out a hand again to brush back a few knotted strands of your hair before silently stroking his thumb along your jaw.

You swallow hard and try to ignore the contact as you quickly fumble to untie the bag you wanted. Finally snatching it free, you glare at him haughtily for a moment longer before turning on your heel and stalking off in the direction of the river, bag in hand and muttering darkly to yourself.  "...Distracting too..."

His deep bellow of laughter follows you all the way to the banks of the water, where you begin to find a suitable place amongst the shore to bathe, determined at least to have a wash of some sorts that night. Searching out a likely looking and private spot amongst the tall reeds, you rid yourself of your clothes and shiver as the cold air hits your naked flesh and sets your skin on fire. Quickly digging your bar of soap from your bag, you carefully step foot into the shallows of the crystal river, sucking in a deep breath as the icy fingers of the slow moving water crawl their way up your body.

Once accustomed to the near freezing temperature, you take another deep breath and submerge yourself completely, clinging to the smooth rocks of the riverbed and facing into the current as you allow the crisp and clear water to run over the length of you and wash away the dirt and tiredness of limb and mind.

When you returned a little while later, you found Thorin settled between a small hollow of rock situated at the base of one of the great spires, affording some protection from the cool gusts of ocean breeze. In an obvious attempt to regain your favour and cool your hot temper, he had already set up camp and had a roaring fire going in the middle of the small hollow. He appraises your clean pants and shirt, watching in silence as you dump the bag on the ground and spread your newly washed gear over the rocks to dry.

Once you had settled in your blankets by the fire to warm yourself and dry your wet hair, he surprises you further still when he too searches out his own bag and leaves to bathe. Satisfied that you had gained at least some sort of small victory from him and feeling much more sociable now that you were refreshed, you begin to rummage amongst your saddle bags for some food. When he eventually returns from the river, wet hair plastered to his brow, it's to find you in the midst of cooking a stew of sorts in a small pot over the fire. 

Settling down beside you, he glances at the pot and grins, "And there I was thinking all I would get is stale bread tonight."

You raise a brow, trying to keep a straight face and not quite being successful. "I'm still thinking about it."

He laughs softly, stretching himself out beside you and watching you silently as you stir at the pot and gaze wistfully down into the darkness towards the glittering lanterns far below.

"What was it like?"

"Hmm?" You turn to find him resting on his elbow and still gazing at you intently. He smiles softly and repeats the question, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the harbour that you had been gazing at so longingly,  "What was it like, living amongst them?"

"Oh." You raise a brow at the randomness of the question and at the inquisitiveness now apparent in his expression. "Are you sure you want to talk about them? You never seem happy to discuss anything that has any relation to elvendom."

He shrugs as you search out your little box of seasoning and add a few pinches to the pot. "I know you have already explained a little of your experiences to me, but I have missed out on so much of your life - a large part of which directly involves them. I'm curious to know more of what it was like for you as a child living amongst them. And what _you_ were like, more than anything."

For a while, you gaze back into the glittering mass of the fair elven city below, still surprised, but unable to deny his curiosity. Pouring the both of you a mug of ale as you collect your thoughts, you hand him one and take a sip of your own as you're struck by a sudden memory that makes you smile. "I was a trouble causer.... Lord Elrond was in a constant state of despair where I was concerned."

Thorin gazes at you questioningly and you hasten to explain, "I was the dwarf girl, or so they said, uncouth and unrefined with unbrushed hair and messy braids. I practically ran wild and was always to be found beyond my given boundaries in search of something or other - or climbing trees - only to be brought back by some exasperated and despairing elf who had been sent to find me when I was discovered missing. Always I wore the boots you had made for me and refused to wear anything else until they would not fit me any more and then I preferred to go barefoot. I never listened, was hot tempered and continuously got into arguments with the other children, usually after they had been on the receiving end of some practical joke or other, and Lord Elrond was at his wits end on how to deal with me."

You laugh softly to yourself, "Do you know I actually set fire to his private library once? Accidentally, of course."

Thorin almost chokes around a mouthful of ale and gazes at you with a mixture of pride and barely disguised glee. "His library? Truly?"

You nod, unable to help grinning back at him. "Yes. As I told you before, in spite of everything, I did always love to learn. I couldn't get enough of it. One particular night I had wanted to continue reading a history of dwarven cities, but it was long after my bedtime. So when Lord Elrond had retired to his own quarters I crept back in to the library to read. I was only a babe - and I tried to light a lantern to see by and well ..... you can imagine the rest."

Thorin snorts suddenly, his eyes shining as he obviously imagines the scenario. You grin at his more hopeful expression, "I also used to sneak into the kitchens at night to steal more food. There was too much game and vegetables on the menu for my liking." You gesture at the stew pot as you stir it again. "I was used to things like this and an ale to wash it down with."

Thorin's booming laughter suddenly echoes around the small hollow and causes Nithoel to raise his head in mid bite, ears pricking. "That's my girl."

You smirk mischievously as you stare into his pride filled eyes. "Always. And by the gods, did I make sure they knew it.." You lean over the cooking pot and dip in a spoon to taste the broth, and finally happy that it was done, you ladle some into a bowl for him before continuing. "I missed you a lot, is all. The elves are so very reserved and do not have the same sense of fun as dwarves do. I struggled to settle in for an age because I so longed for that kind of joy in my life again, not realising then that you alone were the cause of it and that I would never find it elsewhere - no matter how hard I tried."

Thorin's laughter dies on his lips to be replaced by a regretful expression and he sighs softly, looking to change the path of your thoughts. "So what did the elf do to curb your... _enthusiasm_?"

You shrug, ladling out your own meal. "He didn't even try... He instead used my ... ' _enthusiasm_ ' as you put it, to discover my talents and taught me to focus my energies into developing them instead. As I said, he's very wise."

Thorin snorts, keeping his opinions on elves to himself for once, but seeming a little more light hearted than he had been only a short while ago. Settling down to eat, you blow on your spoon and take a mouthful of stew, moaning softly in satisfaction as the warmth of the food spreads throughout your body and soothes the gnawing in your stomach. "He also blamed it all on you. So I'm off the hook."

Thorin splutters on a mouthful of his supper, surfacing from his bowl with such a look of indignation that you can't help but laugh at his expression. "Do not be concerned, Thorin. You should be proud of the strength of character you instilled in me."

He scowls and you giggle softly as you continue to eat, warmer and more relaxed now that you had dried off a little and had a hot meal inside you, finding your own mood to have lightened even as Thorin's had. He quickly finishes his own food in silence and casts his bowl aside, taking to watching you again instead, a favourite pastime of his it seemed. "I have always been proud of you."

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and dip your head, smiling gently at his words. "And I you."

His own eyes soften as he stretches himself out in his bedroll to wait, and once you had finished eating and cleared away the bowls, he gestures for you to join him, his arms open wide to receive you as you hasten to fulfil his wish. Sinking down on to your knees beside him, he curls his arms around your waist and lowers himself back on to his blankets, taking you with him as he stretches himself out on to his back with a sigh. Leaning up on an elbow, you gaze down at him as you lay contently against his chest."What were you like, Thorin? As a child, I mean..."

He smiles, raising his arm to run the back of his hand gently along your jaw, seeming fascinated as always by its smoothness. "It is so long since I was a child, I hardly remember..."

You roll your eyes at him, leaning into his touch. "Nonsense ... Come.... Tell me something at least that will satisfy my own curiosity."

His smile widens as he relaxes further beneath you, slipping into the easy familiarity that you had so often shared and treasured together - a familiarity that had always made it so easy for both of you to forget fears and hurts as you cast them aside along with all other worries and immersed yourself in the protective bubble of each other's comfort and love.

It had always amazed you how simple you found it to be with or around him, and now was no exception. You could already feel the frustration and weariness that had gripped you since the previous morning slipping away to be replaced by his warmth as you wait for him to speak.

"I suppose I was much the same as any young dwarf. Far too curious, eager and full of mischief. I did not really have a traditional childhood, though. Or what little I had did not last very long. Due to my status I had to grow up fast and my lessons were harder and more extensive than most would have to endure. But the years when my mother was alive were by far the easiest and most pleasant. Although I have many happy memories of time spent with my father, also. Learning to ride my first pony ... My first axe that he forged for me himself and sparring with him every morning ... But with my mother it was different. I was different. Far more gentle, naive, carefree and quicker to laugh, filled with infinite hopes and dreams for the future."

He sighs, giving you a wan smile, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "I have often wished you could have known me then, instead of as I am now. I _do_ realise I can sometimes be difficult to be around..."

You tut quietly, leaning in to press a gentle and heartfelt kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I have told you... I love you as you are right now. Stubbornness, grouchiness, hot temper and all. And I wouldn't ever want to change a single thing. Even if you do frustrate me beyond belief at times."

He laughs softly against your lips as he returns your kiss. "My mother used to say exactly the same thing." He loses a hand in your hair, his shining eyes gazing deep into yours once more as you pull back to look at him. "How you remind me of her. The same unconquerable spirit and iron will. She also had a tender heart and the same beautiful perspective on life as you did - not to mention she was highly skilled with a sword."

You raise a brow, honoured by this rare insight into his past. "Truly?"

Thorin nods, "Yes. That was how my parents came to be betrothed, you know. My father and his friends were having some sort of ... _contest of arms_ , if you will, and my father was the victor. Before he could claim the wagers, my mother, a lady of the court who was secretly in love with him and had been watching the tournament, declared her right to challenge the winner. She decided the price of the bet was marriage if she should emerge victorious. My father was only too glad to accept the challenge. One because it would have made him look weak in front of his friends if he refused to fight her, but also because he had long harboured feelings for her too, but had never had the courage to tell her. He hadn't ever known she had felt the same until that very moment."

You sigh happily, "What a wonderful story.."

Thorin chuckles at your dreamy expression, "That is not the end of it... My father would always joke afterwards that he had let my mother win the fight, so he could win her hand. Something that I learned later was quite untrue when at fourteen and finding my feet both in the arena and in life, I foolishly challenged her to a duel."

You grin down at him, reaching for one of his braids and twining it around your finger. "What happened?"

He snorts, "She completely embarrassed me inside of two minutes."

Your tinkling laugh echoes around the small hollow as you imagine a much younger Thorin facing down his mother in the sparring ring, overconfident and full of youthful arrogance, only to be brought very harshly back to earth with a healthy dose of reality. He presses a warm kiss to your neck, smiling against your skin at the sound of your laughter, "I still have the scars and was taught many valuable lessons that day. Humility being the hardest one to swallow. But it has stood me in good stead ever since."

"I wish I could have met her."

He runs his nose the full length of your jaw, his voice soft in your ear  "She would have loved you."

Your heart skips and dances in your chest as you struggle not to be distracted by his attentions. Breathing deeply, you raise your brow, "Maybe ... Until she discovered our mutual affection, that is. Then she would more than likely have chased me around Middle Earth with a very large axe."

Thorin snorts, rolling his eyes as he pulls back again, "You are so ridiculous. Why would you think that?"

You gaze out into the darkness and swallow hard, your voice small. "I am not so naive as to think....." You break off and take another deep breath, struggling for the right words, ".... There is a _million_ obstacles ..... So many obstacles.." With a sigh, you finally giving up trying to explain and shake your head instead. "Forgive me. It is no matter..."

He watches you closely with a frown as you slip into a thoughtful silence, rubbing the back of your neck with a gentle hand as he waits for you to speak your mind. When it seems clear you have no intention of doing so however, he continues, his voice soft. "It does matter. I would know your mind as well as your heart."

You hitch a small smile back on to your face as you turn back to him once more, "I am sorry. I suppose I am still overwhelmed by the feeling of having you close again after all this time, and my mind is filled with errant thoughts because of it."

A flash of frustration crosses his face when you still avoid giving him a straight answer and you wince slightly as you recognise the very elvish trait that you had acquired and mastered with ease, thinking to yourself that it was not only Thorin who'd had such influence on your childhood - something he too seemed to agree with as he responds somewhat shortly. "Always you speak in riddles. Never plainly."

He sighs and softens his tone when he sees your crestfallen expression. "Talk to me.."

"I do not know what to say." You shrug as you settle back down beside him, pulling your blankets up to your chin. "I am tired, is all."

He gazes silently at you for a long while as you shuffle deeper into your bedroll to keep out the chill and close your eyes, feeling more confused than ever. "Sleep, then. I will keep watch." You nod as he wraps a strong arm around you and your bundle of blankets, pulling you back tight against the warmth of him and shielding you from the slight gusts of icy breeze whirling around your small hollow.

Comforted by the crashing of the surf far below and the heat emanating from his body, you quickly give in to your exhaustion and enter the dark abyss of sleep, well before he had even begun to sing his usual lullaby.

 

* * * * * *

Night had well and truly fallen as you finally come upon the white spur of limestone rock that Thorin had described for you the previous day. Eyes piercing the darkness for any sign of danger, you guide Nithoel carefully across the craggy terrain in the direction of the narrow ravine just visible in the light of the waning moon. Patiently, you allow him to pick his own path to your destination, knowing that he would always find the safest route on his own. Sure footed, he makes easy enough work of it, his hooves clattering loudly against the granite rock as he scales the slope and enters the mouth of the pitch black gorge. Pausing, you rest your hand on the hilt of your sword, uncomfortable and uneasy in your surroundings and with the thought of what could be waiting for you in there, unseen in the darkness. Fearing a trap, you turn your head gently to survey Thorin as he slumbers awkwardly against your shoulder. As hardy as he was, three nights of little sleep due to both the rain and close proximity to an elven city had utterly exhausted him, and he had slept through the entire afternoon, despite the uneven path and rough going. Sighing softly to yourself, you pat the large hand that rested against your stomach, not really wanting to rouse him from his much needed rest, but needing his direction now. "Thorin?"

He stirs as you say his name, his arms tightening around your waist as he blinks rapidly and lifts his head from the back of your neck with a low groan. "Where are we?" He stretches the muscles in his shoulders and squints off into the darkness to get his bearings and take in his surroundings, seeming surprised by how far you had come and how long he had slept. "Yes. This is it. This is the place..." He points into the blackness of the ravine, "We need to go down there..."

You sigh in resignation. "I was afraid you'd say that..."

He gazes back, surprised by your reluctant expression, "Do not fret, love. Rest assured, there will be no danger. The entire area will be well guarded." He frowns as if struck by a sudden thought, " - Although, I must say I am surprised the scouts have let you come this far without halting you."

"We _are_ being followed, and have been for the last hour. But they stay out of sight. If it is the guards you speak of, why do they not show themselves?"

Thorin raises a brow at your perception, but does not voice his amazement of your keen awareness. Instead he frowns as he looks once more about him, gaze wary. "I'm sure it is because they were expecting me to be alone and they are cautious. They will show themselves sooner rather than later though, I'm sure. We are nearing our destination."

You nod, your unease growing by the second.  "Very well. It's just that I can not help but feel we are walking into a trap of some kind."

Thorin shakes his head, "The envoys always travel heavily armed. It would take many to defeat them and there would be signs of a fight if anything was amiss. Come. Do not worry so. It is many years since the darkness roamed these hills."

You snort, sceptically, "It is also an age since orcs roamed in the Downs. But these are not normal times. Something stirs in the shadows out of sight and upsets the balance...." You trail off, leaving Thorin to mull over your words as despite your better judgement, you take a deep breath and nudge your horse into a walk - finally taking the plunge into the total darkness of the abyss.

 

* * * * * *

The silence in the ravine was as cloying and overbearing as the darkness itself, so loud in the absence of anything else it was almost deafening, and only broken by the soft sound of both your ragged breathing and Nithoel's hooves as they scraped and slid on the loose shale and shingle. The further in you travelled, the rougher and more unkempt the path, and soon the pace became frustratingly slow and made even more treacherous when in some places the path narrowed so tightly that your knees scraped against the bare rock. The blinding darkness soon became entirely claustrophobic, only serving to add to your feelings of utmost dread. Only the strong arms wrapped around your stomach and the warm comfort of the chest pressed against your back kept you moving forwards at all.

It was a relief then, when after what seemed like hours of nothing but black silence, you finally came upon a part of the path that widened out around a large outcropping, creating a small mossy hollow within the ravine itself.

Thorin squeezes your shoulder, indicting that you should stop. Quietly withdrawing his sword, he squints around into the pitch as you also silently unsheathe your weapon. No sooner had you done so when a dozen shadowy figures silently emerge from somewhere inside the very rock before you and hasten to surround you and trap you, preventing you from going any further.

"Halt! Who goes there!?"

You jump in the saddle with fright at the sudden noise and then shield your sensitive eyes as a torch is lit, your startled gaze passing swiftly over the twelve stout and obviously dwarven guards that had surrounded you, calculating the risks and working out a strategy of attack should they prove hostile. Thorin's free arm suddenly disappears from around your waist as he reaches up to lower his hood, his voice booming through the silence. "Stand down! It is I, Thorin son of Thrain."

"Thorin?"

One of the torch wielding dwarves shoves the light closer to you, throwing Thorin's face into sharp relief and instantly, the surrounding guards relax, their dark eyes unsurprised, but still wary as they lower their weapons and return them to their scabbards.

Thorin dismounts from behind you, his heavy boots thudding dully on the damp evening moss as he quickly begins to greet the dwarves in his native tongue. With a soft groan you also dismount, paying them little attention as you return your sword to its sheath and stretch your aching muscles in relief at being on solid ground once more.

Standing patiently beside Nithoel, you lean against him for support and stroke his sweaty shoulder as Thorin continues his barely whispered discussion with the gathered dwarves, ignoring the curious glances cast in your direction and making sure to keep your face hidden beneath the hood of your travelling cloak.

After a few moments Thorin glances back at you, gesturing towards you quietly as he mutters a soft argument towards one dwarf in particular. The dwarf appraises you for a moment and shakes his head, and Thorin leans in closer, visibly angry with the guard.

You frown as you watch the exchange, noting the surprise and disbelief in the eyes of the dwarf Thorin was conversing with as his gaze is once more directed back to you and the silver dagger you wore at your belt. Dawning comprehension suddenly hits you and you take a tentative step forward, clearing your throat. "My Lord?"

The eyes of the entire guard as well as Thorin turn to you as one and you squirm uncomfortably under their scrutiny. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but there seems to be an issue in regards to my being here? If that is the case, I freely consent to remain here with the guard, if only not to cause you further delay."

Thorin shakes his head, opening his mouth to reply, but the dwarf guard beats him to it, his voice low and gruff through his thick accent. "It is no longer a matter. Lord Thorin has vouched for your presence, Lady. And as you seem to be named dwarf-friend, it is but a simple matter of our courtesy then, that we allow you to pass. Stranger or no."

You bow your assent to the dwarf as one of the other guards cautiously approaches and holds his hand out, gesturing for the reins. Giving your horse a reassuring pat on the neck, you relinquishing them silently and step up to Thorin's side, noting his relieved expression with interest. Leaning in, you whisper quietly in his ear. "Would they really have preferred it if I wait here?"

He shakes his head, his deep blue eyes fixed intently on the shadow of your face as another of the guards pushes hard against the solid cliff of rock. With a loud grating noise, the hard stone splits under his touch and the outline of a door becomes visible in the light of the torch in the dwarven guard's hand. You watch in awe as the door begins to swing open revealing a dark, sloping passage into the mountain. Handing Thorin the torch, the guard takes another from one of his kinsmen and silently gestures for you both to follow before disappearing inside the tunnel.

Bowing your head slightly to prevent hitting it on the roof of the passage, you follow Thorin inside, staying close to his side and grasping his fingers gratefully when he reaches out for your hand and mutters quietly in your ear. "Dain and the others are already here... And news that I have a companion has already reached the council. They knew all along that it was me, and that is the reason we were able to come so far without being stopped. However, Onar will not be happy at all that I have brought what he deems to be an _outsider_ with me, and for that reason I would prefer to keep you close. I do not trust him. Or his guards."

You gaze back at him with wide eyes, stumbling a little on the uneven surface. "Is there a danger of my presence causing you problems? For if so, I am truly sorry."

Thorin squeezes your hand and gives you a small smile. "You are in no danger. I will look after you. Onar will not dictate who I may or may not keep in my company."

You fall silent as the passage continues to slope downwards for a small eternity, with no sign of its ending until you come suddenly to a bend in the tunnel and multitude of muffled voices reaches you like a soft breeze that grows louder as you emerge into the soft glow of a dozen dwarven lanterns. Thorin's grip on your hand tightens as you exit into a large cavern filled with noise and colour and the dwarf guard before you bows low and announces your arrival in a booming voice. "Lord Thorin..."

You have just a split second to take in the enourmous cave and the large, square stone table that sat in the centre of it before all eyes turn to you and the room falls deathly silent. You shift uneasily, eyes swiftly passing over the many dwarves gathered inside the room, noting the various patterns and embellishments of the different clans upon their robes.

An old grey bearded dwarf swathed in deep plum velvet and rich furs steps forward, his pale eyes shining with outrage as he first appraises you, his penetrating gaze fixed firmly on the shadow of the smooth jaw partially hidden beneath your cowl, before rounding on Thorin, venting his grievance in his native tongue."So! It is true, then! ... What is the meaning of this, Thorin!? You mean to offer us insult by bringing an outsider into our midst and into one of my most secret refuges!?"

Subconsciously Thorin releases your hand and steps in front of you, his stance entirely protective as he squares himself up to face the other dwarf, shoulders tense. "What insult do you believe I have offered you, Onar? The lady is no outsider. She is of my family and my most trusted companion - and I will keep no secrets from her, for she betrays none."

"Of your family!?" The grey beard's eyes bulge in their sockets with his anger and disbelief. "She is no _dwarf_! It would seem your mind has addled you at last, Thorin!"

Thorin listens to the old dwarf's tirade with growing impatience and you could tell by the throbbing of the veins in his neck, and the square set of his jaw that his quick temper was close to snapping. His voice when it comes is heavy with warning, "As it would seem your tongue has failed _you_ , Onar. I would guard it better if I were you."

" _Enough_." Another dwarf steps forward, reaching out a peaceable hand towards both Thorin and the older dwarf, his need to calm the situation clear. "You protect this... _woman_ , Thorin?"

Thorin nods towards the new comer, replying without pause. "Until death."

The dwarf raises a brow in surprise of Thorin's utter conviction. "Why? What is _she_ to _you_?"

He swallows hard, his eyes flicking to you before returning to those of his accusers. " _Everything_."

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest with the single statement, and it hits you truly for the first time just how far Thorin was willing to go in his defence of you. The gathered dwarves erupt into wave of barely concealed mutters and the dwarf before you hastily changes his expression of shocked surprise into a questioning frown. Thorin sighs, his expression now weary. "Dain... This is the _child_... The one I carried from Dale."

Dain's eyebrows instantly shoot up into his hair, a flash of realisation crossing his face. "Truly?"

When Thorin nods his confirmation Dain steps up, rounding your protector to gaze at you as though you were some extremely interesting curiosity he had just discovered. You lower your hood slowly, ignoring the muttering and scrutinising stares of the others as you gaze back at him serenely, chin held high and proud as he examines you. Walking a full circle around you, he studies you keenly from beneath bushy, grey brows. "But surely she is of the wrong age, Thorin. She's still only a young maiden. How can this be so?"

Before Thorin could answer him, you interrupt, annoyed at being spoken about as though you were not there, and fervently hoping your use of their language would not let you down now. "Not much more than a child I may look to your eyes, my Lord Dain. But believe me when I say that, as flattering as your estimation may be, I am now far too old to be thought of as such, even by your considerable reckoning."

A moment of deathly silence follows your statement, where you continue to gaze sweetly at Dain and watch in satisfaction as his face, along with the faces of those around him, pass through varying stages of disbelief and shock at hearing their own tongue flow so freely from the lips of a human. Your eyes flick to Thorin's and you see your own satisfied amusement mirrored in the blue as he too watches you with quiet pride.

Dain was the first to recover himself, an amused smile making the corners of his beard twitch. He glances over his shoulder at the rest of the gathering. "Well, well. It seems as though we have been caught out at last, gentlemen. This lady speaks as if she were one of our own." He eyes Thorin critically. "You _might_ have mentioned _that_ sooner."

The old grey beard shakes his head, well beyond outrage now, his weathered skin puce as he mutters quite audibly. " _Blasphemy_ is what this is."

A dark look of warning flashes in Thorin's eyes as he focuses his attention back to the old dwarf. "Forgive me. But I was not given the opportunity."

Dain also eyes the other dwarf with growing frustration. "Peace, Onar. It seems as if we have encountered something quite unheard of, and I am curious." He turns back to you, switching without pause into the Common Tongue. "Forgive me, my dear. We have been quite rude, I'm afraid .... Am I right in saying that you have understood our conversation thus far?"

You nod once, refusing to show any signs of weakness to them by taking the easy way out Dain was offering with his use of your own tongue, and choosing to reply still in Khuzdul instead. "Yes, Lord Dain."

He grins at your continued use of his language and the easily perceived reasoning behind it. "My apologies ..... Though perhaps then, you would also be so kind as to satisfy our curiosity? Thorin must speak the truth, but I am at a loss as to understand _how_ it could be possible. .. Should you not be nearing the _end_ of the lifespan of your kind instead of entering the prime of your womanhood?"

Your gaze lifts to Thorin, questioning and seeking his approval before answering. He nods almost imperceptibly, implying that you should continue. Returning your focus to Dain, you nod again. "Normally you would be most correct, Lord. But I am not as most humans."

Dain raises a questioning brow,  his curiosity practically tangible as he urges you to continue. "No? Then what or who are you?"

You lift your chin proudly. "I am Dunedain, Lord. My blood is of Numenor and my lifespan is more akin to that of yours."

"Treachery!" All eyes turn to Onar once more as he spits on the ground before you and rounds on Thorin again. "I should have known as soon as I saw her gear. Not only do you bring an outsider into my domain, but one of those accursed rangers no less! Unnatural creatures they are, always bothering me and my people and poking their noses in where they don't belong. I say they are more elf than man!"

The sound of ringing steel follows the old dwarf's bold and offensive statement and you rush forward with wide eyes to grasp Thorin's arm as he withdraws his sword. "Thorin! No!"

His body trembles beneath your hands with barely restrained rage as he squares up to the other, his stance as menacing as his voice. "I would advise you from pursuing this subject further, old one. Unless you mean to offer myself and my clan more insult than you have already caused _and_ break all ties of friendship between our families."

Your grip tightens on the hard muscle of his forearm and you shake your head imploringly, desperate to keep the peace between the two. "Thorin, _please_..."

He continues to ignore you, his burning eyes boring into those of the other as he waits for his answer.

"Thorin .."  You reach up a trembling hand to caress his cheek instead, trying to force him to look at you.  
His piercing eyes finally flick to yours, blacker than coal in his rage, and upon seeing your anxiousness he instantly cools, his gaze softening in light of your obvious worry. He exhales a great breath of air at last, his arm relaxing beneath your touch as he nods and returns his sword slowly to its scabbard with your encouragement, whilst all the while continuing to breathe deeply to calm himself.

The atmosphere in the room changes from one of tense nervousness to almost palpable relief as Thorin sheaths his sword home, and Dain watches the exchange with his mouth hanging slightly open, unable to believe how swiftly Thorin had responded to your pleas, or that he had responded to them at all.

He himself takes a deep breath and makes to speak but you hold up your hand to stop him, deciding it was high time you intervened before you caused more trouble than you already had and allowed the situation to come to blows. Squeezing Thorin's arm once more in comfort you turn away from him and back to the old dwarf who still stood behind you, his eyes burning with hatred and with his own sword still raised defensively.

Lifting your chin, you step towards him, your voice soft. "My Lord Onar..... I feel I must apologise .... It seems I have angered you and offended you in some way, and yet I am at a loss as to how. Despite us never meeting before tonight it seems you are already fairly knowledgeable when it comes to questions of my character - as well as that of the very ones who I thought did nothing more than work to protect your borders so you can go about scratching in the dirt for treasures in peace. But seeing as you find my kin so offensive and tiresome, and weary of their so-called meddling, I will have to ensure that they trouble you no more and leave your good self to ensure the safety of your people as well as that of the trade routes you frequent. I am sure you would not miss them and that they will only be too glad to be released of their labour to spend some much needed time with their own families instead of watching over yours..."

You break off and let the threat hang for a moment, watching as his face turns from angry puce to deathly pale and savagely rejoicing in his sudden comprehension of the ramifications of his petulant actions if only in revenge for his treatment of Thorin. A flare of grim amusement runs through your body as you prepare to deliver the second nail to the old dwarf's coffin. "As for myself, I do not know how I can make up for the wrongs I have done to you, as I do not know what they are or understand your grievance. Indeed, if it is my presence alone that offends you, then I would tell you that I offered freely to wait at your borders and remain with your guard until my Lord had concluded his business, but they saw fit to let me pass. Not only because my Lord could vouch for me, but also because I am Dwarf Friend. Named so by King Thror himself, to whom I believe you long held allegiance and friendship?"

Onar's gaze turns haughty and he glares at you from beneath his stern brow. Unafraid, you stare back and raise your voice, directing your words at the rest of the gathered party as well as him. "I would also like to add that I believe it is not Thorin who offers any insult, but you yourself, for doubting my Lord's honour by suggesting that he would put any of you in any danger _or_ subject you to any kind of threat by bringing me here in the first place. As my Lord Thorin's honour is of the very highest and most important to me, I take its questioning as a personal insult and slight and will not forget it. For it is not only dwarves who have long memories."

You raise a questioning brow in Onar's direction, enjoying being able to vent your anger upon the old man before delivering the final hammer blow in your defence of the one you loved. "So.... Is that what you meant to imply, Father? Because if so, I would have us resolve our differences of opinion quickly so my Lord can tell you why he has called on you, instead of having to listen to outdated views and false accusation. Insult me and my kin if you will, Lord. Your opinion holds little weight with me or them. But do not think to insult my King, for I would fight for him until the very last."

Onar gazes back at you as though you had slapped him, his face paler than ever when he realises he has been completely trapped with words of courtesy and logic - left unable even to defend himself for fear of questioning Thorin's morals further and making himself appear more foolish than he already had in front of the others. Stammering, his pale eyes flick from one face to the next, looking for a way out. "I... Well of course I didn't mean.. That is to say, I would not want to question Lord Thorin's _honour_..."

You gaze down upon the old dwarf as he stumbles over his words, needing to end the situation with him quickly, only if to get the others on side.

Your eyes soften along with your tone as you hasten to give him the way out he now so desperately sought. "Come... Let us not argue any longer. I know your mistrust has been well earned. I understand that. And you must therefore find someone such as I strange and foreign. But I bear no grudges and give you my word on all that I hold dear that I will betray none of your secrets nor will I do anything that might bring about harm to your people. And maybe if you chanced to look outside your halls every once in a while, you would find others of the same mind that would benefit you .... So, I say to you that if we can not be friends, then at least let us not be enemies? The night is wearing thin, and there is still much to discuss. What say you? Can we not let bygones be bygones. Just for tonight?"

The old dwarf eyes you with shrewd and calculating dislike, having a small, internal battle with himself as he struggles to fight all of his instincts and find a way out that did not involve accepting your generosity. You wait patiently for him to reach his decision, glad your knowledge of dwarven politics and courtesy had not failed you when he finally and begrudgingly holds out his hand, his expression sour, despite his now honeyed tones. "Of course. Forgive my rudeness. As you have said, I do not know you and I had no right. I am old and have lost my wits it seems, along with my manners."

You shake his rough hand, relieved that the situation had been resolved peaceably, even if you knew that the old dwarf would be unlikely to forget your very public humiliation of him any time soon. "As I also said, I bear you no hard feelings. We all lose our wits from time to time. Young or old."

Onar nods in agreement, his eyes moving to Thorin as he releases your hand as quickly as possible without seeming rude. "And you, Thorin? Can you forgive an old man his insanity?"

Thorin gazes back impassively and you stare at him with a pleading expression, praying for him to accept and put the whole uneasy business behind you. His eyes meet yours and he sighs, still not quite ready to let the grievance go either, but willing to do so just to make you happy. He nods once in agreement. "I can."

"And the friendship between our clans?"

Thorin shrugs, "Will remain intact."

Onar nods in apparent relief. "Thank you."

The room releases its held breath collectively as everyone returns to their seats, glad to have the argument so amicably resolved. Onar heads off to join them at the table, slightly red faced and seemingly embarrassed with how the scene had played out.

Dain watches him go as you return to Thorin's side and you could tell by his expression of distaste that he would have more to say to Onar later regarding his outburst. An arm wraps around your waist, drawing your attention back to the piercing blue eyes before you and you smile softly at the look Thorin was giving you.

"You continue to amaze me."

You snort, nudging him playfully as you lean into his loose embrace. "I had to do something before you gutted him, didn't I?"

"He would have deserved it, old fool. By insulting you he has also insulted me."

You sigh softly in exasperation, "His views matter not to me. And I am not worth the trouble."

Thorin raises a brow, "That would be a matter of opinion. I find you to be worth far more."

You groan quietly and shake your head, "Be that as it may, it still would be unwise to cause strife amongst your kin when the situation can so easily be otherwise resolved or avoided altogether. I fear Onar is not the only one displeased by my presence here and would have support." You lay your hand on his arm and squeeze gently as you gaze into his eyes. "We have enough problems right now without creating another, and it would also do little to increase my popularity amongst your kind. Focus your attentions instead on the matter in hand and the reason why we are here. We need their support, and I don't think a clan war would be the way to go about acquiring it. Do you not agree?"

"The lady is wise and speaks much sense. You should pay more heed to her Thorin and cool your hot temper before it causes you problems you do not need." You both look up as Dain steps forward, having been so deep in discussion you had forgotten his presence.

A flash of irritation crosses Thorin's face as he scowls darkly at the other dwarf. "I would not have to try and cool my temper if others remembered their manners and their wits. I will not forget this slight easily."

Dain sighs wearily, "Well, I beg that you will at least forget it for tonight. Whatever happens tomorrow is your own business. But the night is grown old and I would rest before starting the long journey back to my halls."

Thorin sighs, relenting in the face of adamant persuasion from both parties. "Very well. I'll get straight to the point then, shall I?" He gestures towards the table and you follow, sitting close by his side as you wait for Dain to settle himself likewise. Pouring both you and himself a glass of wine from a silver decanter on the table in front of you, Thorin waits for Dain to make the call for order.

When the room was a last fallen silent, Thorin lifts his eyes to survey the others, making sure he has their utmost attention before continuing. "First of all, I would like to thank you all for coming... I know many of you have journeyed far to be here, and as my good friend and cousin Dain has just pointed out, the night is wearing thin and you will no doubt be anxious to return to your halls. Seeing as we have already wasted valuable time with petty arguments..." His eyes linger on Onar who glares back sullenly, "...I will therefore come straight to the matter in hand, gentlemen. I called you all here today to hopefully garner your support. A venture, if you will, that could prove most profitable to any whom were willing. "

One of the younger dwarves in the party, his golden hair extravagantly braided into his equally impressive beard, leans forward across the table, a questioning frown etched upon his face. "What kind of 'venture' are we talking about here, Thorin?"

Thorin gazes back impassively at the other for a moment while taking a sip of his wine. Placing his goblet back on the table he surveys the others again too before answering, "I intend to take back Erebor."

Dain chokes on his own wine in mid sip, spraying some of it across the pale stone in front of him. You resist the urge to laugh at both his and the similar reactions that follow around the table, finding it easy enough to control in the weight of the subject just broached.

The gathered dwarves erupt into conversation all at once, demanding answers to questions that Thorin couldn't possibly make out in the din, and each trying to make themselves heard over the other. You wince at the clamour until Dain calls for quiet once more and the noise finally falls into shocked silence as each of the dwarves gaze at Thorin as though he had lost his mind.

Dain too stares at his cousin as though looking for any sign that this could be some kind of bad joke, but finding no amusement in Thorin's face he finally has to accept that Thorin did indeed mean to attempt such a feat. His voice hoarse from his choking fit, Dain leans towards you and shakes his head in disbelief. "Thorin....Have you lost your mind!? To even try would be suicide!"

You squirm uneasily in your seat, recognising the very words you yourself had spoken to him and fervently hoping that Dain would have better luck in convincing him to abandon this madness. 

His face still impassive, Thorin shakes his head. "I do not believe it will. The time is right to finally attempt to reclaim our homeland. Smaug has not been seen for many years and there are rumours now that the wealth of Erebor remains unguarded. I will not idly stand by while others take freely what our people worked so hard to build. Not while I have breath left in me. I _will_ see my grandfather's and my father's dream fulfilled and renewed."

So powerful was the unwavering conviction and emotion in his voice, you couldn't help but be moved by Thorin's utter belief in his destiny, and you gaze at him in mild awe whilst all the while wondering if he could be right and that it might indeed just be possible. He catches your expression from the corner of his eye and gives you a small smile as he reaches out to grasp your hand beneath the table and draw it into his lap.

"What if you are wrong and the dragon only sleeps?"

Thorin shrugs, turning back to the table. "Then I will find a way to destroy him instead."

An ancient, grey-haired dwarf leans across the table with a frown, "And how do you expect to do that, lad? Even if you marched with your full strength, you could not hope to accomplish such a feat against as mighty foe as the dragon."

Thorin shrugs, "Usually, I would agree, Herhak. But this time, we have a Wizard on our side."

Stunned silence follows Thorin's statement, and he grins as he glances around at the shocked faces staring back at him before beginning to explain everything in more detail - starting with the chance meeting with Gandalf in Bree some weeks earlier and ending with the plan the Wizard had helped concoct regarding the reclaiming of the mountain.

You listen in as rapt attention as all the others as Thorin tells his tale, hoping it would help you understand more of just what Gandalf's intentions were in all of this.

It was not until a few long moments after Thorin had stopped speaking and everyone had digested this new information, did anyone even deign to move or speak.

Dain runs a hand through his unruly hair, his expression thoughtful as he goes over in his mind everything that Thorin had told them. His words, when they came however, were desperate. "Thorin... We are family you and I ... And I am honour bound to assist you in whatever way I can... But, despite everything you have told us tonight, I still firmly believe that this is truly madness. Our people are still not recovered from Azanulbizar and we continue to try and rebuild what was lost that day, even though we do not hold out much hope of ever succeeding.... And now you ask this of us.... Even if we were to march with our full strength, what victory could we ever hope to achieve if we find the dragon waiting for us at the end of it? Even with the Wizard's help? The only result would be flame and ruination as well as the end of our people. We could never hope to rebuild from such a tragedy... So, I beg of you... Return to your halls and build a new future there, for if you will not be swayed then I say to you that this must be your quest and yours alone, for I could not sanction such a wanton waste of life."

Thorin sighs softly, his eyes also sad with memory of the lives lost before the gates of Moria. "I thought you would say as such, and I understand. But I had to try.... And I will continue to do so. Even if I must go alone, I will not forsake the dreams of my family and of my people." He gazes around at the others who were watching him with varying expressions of pity and respect. "And do you all feel the same as Dain?"

Each one murmurs their assent and Thorin nods again in resignation. "Very well, then. I thank you for your time, gentlemen and shall keep you no longer. Farewell and safe travels. May your beards grow ever longer." He releases your hand and rises from his chair while you hasten to follow suit, feeling almost as disheartened for him as you were sure he did himself.

"Can you not sway Thorin from this madness, Lady? It seems he pays far more heed to you than he will any of us."

You turn back to find Dain watching you with obvious desperation and open your mouth to reply, only for Thorin to cut across you, "Believe me, Dain... She has already tried. And if there was anyone who would have the chance of dissuading me from this, it would be her. But as you can see, I am still here. And so is the Lady.... Honour bound she feels to accompany me in my supposed folly."

A rather large, white haired dwarf rises from his own seat, eyeing you with both surprise and mild admiration. "You intend to accompany Thorin on this quest? "

You nod, lifting your head proudly, but wary of further attack. "I do, Father."

He raises a brow, his confusion shining clear in his pale eyes. "Tell me why? What do you have to gain from this?"

You shrug, aware that Thorin too awaited your answer with interest. "I care not for gold or precious gems, father. I go because of the debt I owe for the great service my Lord and his family provided me in my youth - and even more so for the love I bear in my heart for both him and his people. My Lord is the closest remaining soul I have to family upon this earth, and I am bound by loyalty and affection to follow him wherever he leads. So, you ask me what I have to gain? I say to you nothing, except the honour of remaining at his side, for I would ask for nothing else." 

The old dwarf sinks slowly back into his chair, gazing at you along with the others in awed silence and you could tell by their expressions that your answer had at least earned you their respect, even if you never had their acceptance. You bow your head to them and take your leave, gratefully taking Thorin's arm when he offers it to you, his eyes filled with his own personal pride.

You slowly make your way back the way you had come, not speaking until you had left the room well behind and were out of earshot. "What now?"

Thorin shrugs, "We meet Gandalf and proceed as planned."

Your gaze softens, "I am sorry you did not gain what you sought from this council. And I am sorry I caused you further strife."

He squeezes your hand in comfort, "Do not be sorry. It was only a fool's hope that I would gain their support and I never really expected any of them to come. I have lost nothing by trying." He smiles softly as he gazes at you from the corner of his eye, "And don't crave their acceptance so. You are worth more than that."

You sigh softly, avoiding his eyes. "It was not for my own benefit if I _did_  crave acceptance."

Thorin pushes hard on the rock door that would grant you access to the outside world, eyeing you incredulously. "It is far worse then, if you sought it for mine. Their opinions hold no power over my heart, my love."

You remain silent and watch as the door finally gives way to reveal the half light of the approaching dawn. Taking a grateful and deep breath of the early morning air you step out of the claustrophobic darkness of the tunnel and look around. The guards stand as you emerge and with a small pang of relief you spot your horse tethered to a nearby rock and grazing at the moss contently. You make your way over to him and give him a soft pat as Thorin converses quietly with the guard again.

As you wait, a sound of hurried footsteps echoes from the tunnel and you raise a brow, turning like everyone else to watch as Dain emerges breathless with the large, white haired dwarf in tow. He takes a quick glance around and gives you a small smile when he sees you standing by Nithoel before gesturing for Thorin.

A puzzled frown crossing his face, Thorin glances to you too before making his way over to them. Dain grasps him by the shoulder and leads him further away from you and out of earshot. Gathering your presence was not required, you set about adjusting Nithoel's tack instead, ears straining to catch the hurried and muttered conversation between the three.

Dain glances over his shoulder and upon seeing you with his back to him, turns to Thorin. "One last thing before you leave... But I must ask, Thorin.... What is there between you and this woman?"

Thorin raises a brow at the boldness of the question and Dain grimaces apologetically.  "Forgive me... It's just that we couldn't help but notice a certain .. _something_ .. between the two of you. More than that of guardian and ward. And the Lady's speech a moment ago did nothing to dampen suspicion, as did your apparent willingness to defend one another no matter the cost."

When Thorin still remains silent, the white haired dwarf chips in, his awkwardness as apparent as Dain's. "Some of the others are now asking questions, Thorin. You know they would not sanction such a union and would view it as both an abomination and a violation of the law - considering it an act of treason. You must be careful."

Thorin shrugs, his demeanour completely untroubled despite the stark warning he had just received. "As I have just said to the Lady herself, their opinion .. Or should I say, _Onar's_ opinion, holds no power over me or anything I may or may not feel for her. And if I were to become King and regain my rightful sovereignty they would do well to remember that I do not need _them_ to sanction anything, and such words would be akin to a declaration of war against Erebor. Perhaps you should mention _that_ when you return below."

Dain's eyes widen at the barely veiled threat in Thorin's words. "Thorin.... _Mahal_ himself would not even sanction such a union.."

Thorin stands in silence for a while, arms folded defensively and struggling with an internal battle that became clear in his eyes and in the set of his mouth. He looks your way once more, studying your profile in the pale dawn light and smiles tenderly, his voice soft when it comes. "That is where you are mistaken, my friend." He turns back to find them both gazing at him bewildered.  "Zayûgân ...."

The old dwarf exhales sharply as though he had received a heavy blow to the ribs, his face a mask of shock as he whispers, "Impossible..."

Thorin shakes his head "No. It is the truth." His gaze flicks to you once more as your slim fingers struggle with the buckle on Nithoel's girth. "I suppose I have always known, but did not realise what it was until she returned to me only a few days ago." He gazes at the old one with utmost seriousness. "And now you can be sure just how far I am willing to go."

Dain shakes his head, still struggling to comprehend the gravity of Thorin's words.  "I do not know if this could even be possible, Thorin .... Does she know, or even believe as you do?"

Thorin shrugs, "I am not sure. We have not discussed it as of yet. Although her affection is mutual, I am sure she is just as confused as to how this could be as you and I."

"And yet you would risk her safety and your own by embarking on this quest?"

Thorin shakes his head, "I did not know for sure she would return, let alone days before I was due to set out. And her presence here is not without my trying to leave her behind, despite the pain it cost me to do it. I have begged and pleaded with her to remain in safety, but she refuses further separation and is determined to follow ... no matter the cost."

Dain raises a brow as he too gazes at your back, admiring your stubbornness if nothing else. "And what of the future? "

"As to that I can not say, for it is also something we have not yet discussed at any length. At present, neither of us can see past the journey at hand and the perils it will bring. All I can tell you for sure is that our being apart has only ever brought pain and suffering to one or both and it is highly unlikely that either of us would be willing to accept it ever again."

"I see." Dain scratches his chin as he surveys Thorin, perplexed but resigned. "Then I hope for your sake you are right about this, as well as your _venture_."

Thorin nods, a sad smile playing about his mouth as he clasps forearms with both the old white haired dwarf and then his cousin, pulling him forward to whisper quietly in his ear. "Just promise me one thing?"

Dain's expression turns questioning, "If I can..."

Thorin swallows hard, "If ... If I fail.... Help her?"

Dain pulls back and gazes deep into Thorin's eyes, seeing a thinly veiled desperation in their depths and an urgent need for reassurance. He swallows thickly past the dryness in his throat, aware of how much this meant to Thorin, but also very aware of the implications such promises could bring about. Throwing caution to the wind against his better judgement, Dain finally nods. "I will try to do my best by her. I give you my word."

Thorin sags in relief, a small, grateful smile touching his lips as he releases Dain's arm and steps away from him. "Thank you, brother." He nods once more in farewell and turns away, approaching the spot where you stood waiting for him. Dain watches him go, a deep sadness stirring in his heart as he shouts out to him once more. "Thorin!" He turns and gazes questioningly over his shoulder as he waits for Dain to speak again. "Don't fail..."

Thorin nods once more before climbing up into the saddle behind you - the others left to watch silently as with a last wave you turn Nithoel about and with a soft touch, nudge him back the way you had come and out of sight of the anguished Lord of the Iron Hills.

* * * * * *

  
You ease gently on the reins, bringing your mount to a complete stop as you silently survey the surrounding darkness. On your right, the rolling vista of the White Downs was just visible in the late evening gloom, signifying that you were extremely close to your destination. Behind you, Thorin tenses, his hand automatically reaching for his sword as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. "What is it?"

You shake your head slightly in response, wincing at how loudly his voice carried through the still night. Your keen eyes pierce every shadow and nook for signs of anything unusual, your gaze coming to rest at last on a likely looking spot amongst a copse of wind-weathered trees. You smile softly to yourself as the soft hoot of a barn owl floats from the highest branches, and cupping your mouth in your hands you respond to the call, ignoring Thorin's bewildered expression at your strange behaviour.

Groaning softly, you dismount just as a shadowy figure silently drops down to the ground beside the gnarled trunk, swiftly followed by a second. Pushing back your hood you grin as you wait for the figures to approach, aware of Thorin dismounting behind you, the ring of metal all too loud as he withdraws his sword entirely.

You reach out to lay a hand on his arm as he stands beside you, stopping him as the figures step up before you and lower their own hoods.

"Halros! Torthann! Mae g'ovannen!!"

Their faces light up with easy smiles that smooth away the long years of care and hardship - grey eyes sparkling as they both embrace you happily and return the greetings.

The sound of a sword being sheathed distracts your attention back to the dwarf lord standing behind you and you pull gently out of Halros' embrace and turn to face him, drawing both men's attention to him for the first time. "Halros...Torthann...Allow me to introduce Tho -"

"Lord Thorin.."

Torthann cuts you off as both men bow low before him and you can see the surprise reflected in Thorin's eyes as well as in his expression at the gesture. You smile softly as you introduce them to him. "My Lord, may I introduce Halros and Torthann. Two members of my company ... and my friends."

To your surprise and theirs, Thorin returns the bow before straightening up and eyeing both men thoughtfully. "An honour to meet such good friends of my Lady... And to finally be able to express my sincere gratitude for the protection I learn you have provided me and my people over the long years. I am at your service."

The smiles of both men return to their faces and Halros regards Thorin warmly, the growing mutual respect apparent between both of them. "It was our pleasure and our duty, my Lord. But your courtesy does you a great credit and we thank you for your recognition of our efforts. Although it was always far easier to guard you than it would have been to explain to our Lady how we managed to let you come to any harm."

Thorin's eyes flick fondly to you and he chuckles softly. "I can only imagine.."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, "If you're all quite done?" You wait until their joint laughter subsides and then turn to more serious matters. "Where are the others?"

Torthann clears his throat and begins to give you a full report. "Just over a week ago, Mithrandir passed by this way and told us of your instruction. Since then we hastened to do as you asked and set up watches on the roads. Braigar and Fringal have stationed themselves at the Brandywine Bridge, Erandir and Lenglin went south to Sarn Ford and the Greenway and Aranir rode with Nestad to Bree to keep a close eye on the East-West Road. We ourselves have been patrolling the boundaries of the halflings as before, but Mithrandir sought us out once more only yesterday and told us to look for your coming this very evening after nightfall by the White Downs. He told us that you would be in the company of Lord Thorin."

"I see..." You share a look with Thorin, finding him almost as unnerved as you yourself at Gandalf's accurate knowledge. "It seems as if once again Mithrandir is playing his cards close to his chest, and once again I feel like a puppet dancing to his tune." You sigh and rub your temples, trying to collect your thoughts. "What of Ferrif? Where is he?"

"He has returned to the Valley to give a report to Lord Elrond."

Halros' eyes soften as he gazes upon you. "And what of you, my Lady?"

You look up at him, knowing he had guessed the answer already, but wanted to hear it confirmed from your own lips. "I? I will do as I always have done and accompany my Lord wherever his fate leads him, for it is my fate also."

The sadness in the expressions of both men brought about by the confirmation was only matched by the haunted look in Thorin's eyes as Torthann reaches out a hand to squeeze your shoulder. "Then we are honour bound through love and loyalty to accompany you also, as we always have done."

You shake your head quickly, "No! That could not be borne! I will not tear you away from your families and place you in grave peril just so that I might have the comfort of your companionship a little while longer."

"You forget that you are also part of our family."

You swallow hard, a painful lump constricting your throat at Halros' words. "As you are mine. But how could I ever look your wives and children in the eyes and tell them the reason that their husbands and fathers would not be coming home is through my own selfishness? Nay, your place is with them first and foremost, as mine is with Thorin. Guard well the treasures of your hearts, my friends... before anything else. For without them, life holds no joy and is not worth living. Enjoy every precious moment you can with them - for time passes swiftly and is clouded with uncertainty. It is a bitter lesson I have had to swallow over the long years, and I would not have you learn it also." A strong arm wraps itself around your waist and you look up to find Thorin standing beside you, his eyes filled with the depth of emotion as he gazes back at you. You lean into the warmth of his side and return your attention to your men.

After studying you for a long moment, Torthann inclines his head. "Very well. As always, we will do as you ask. But we shall not be idle whilst you are gone. Allow us then to return to our patrol and watch over the people in your absence."

You nod your head, "I was hoping you would agree to that very thing. It would be a great comfort to my Lord and I, knowing you were there to help protect his halls whilst we are away."

Thorin nods in agreement by your side, "I would also add that your company will always be welcome to our hospitality and I have left instruction with the guard and with my sister to that effect. I am very much in your debt and would be more at ease if you would accept my offer of food, lodgings and supplies whenever any of you ever have the need. You will be made most welcome as honoured guests and are free to stay as long as you wish amongst my people."

Both men bow low towards Thorin once more, "Our Lady is right to adore you, My Lord... Again you show your honour and character - and it is of the very best. You have our sincerest thanks, and rest assured that we will see your people safe until your return."

"Nay, gentlemen. It is you who has my sincerest thanks, for all you have done and continue to do for me and my kin. And may we meet again with the grace of Mahal."

Halros reaches out a hand to grasp Thorin's warmly, inclining his head. "May good fortune rule over you, Thorin Oakenshield. And may the Valar be with you." Torthann repeats the gesture and the blessing before Thorin stands aside to allow them to embrace you and say their goodbyes. "We will round up the others and return to the Mountains as quickly as possible." Torthann releases you and takes a step back to gaze at you with sincere eyes. "Love well, live well and stay safe, Lady. May the Valar protect you always, so that we may soon be reunited."

You nod, blinking back tears. "Farewell, my friends. Safe travels, and may the stars watch over you."

With a final bow of their heads, both men disappear back into the shadows and Thorin's arm returns to the small of your back, comforting you as you stand and watch them leave. "Never have I come across men so honourable or courteous as those of your kin, my love. I feel a great pity that I will not get to know them better."

You smile softly as you turn to face him, "They are the very best of men. And perhaps you will yet get to know them better, for I am sure the sentiment is mutual."

Thorin caresses your face with a warm hand and leans in to kiss your brow softly, "Then I will hope for the day when your kin and mine will share such close friendship." You nod as he pulls back and smiles softly at you. "Come... Let us not tarry any longer. The evening is waning fast and we are already overdue."

He takes your hand and helps you mount Nithoel again before climbing up into the saddle behind you, his arms once more circling your waist as you lean back against his warmth. "We are already in The Shire and are but a few short miles from the village. You will see the lights of Hobbiton before the moon has fully risen." With a single word your spur Nithoel into a gentle trot, guiding him by the last small hillocks at the edge of the Downs and into the land of the Shirefolk.

 

* * * * * *

As promised, the twinkling lights of the village became visible within a few short hours, nestled between rolling meadows in which livestock still grazed at the lush grasses. You take a deep breath of the sweet night air and smile softly as you urge Nithoel down the last gentle slope and join with the cobbled road leading into the peaceful town.

Not before long you come upon the first of many small, neat houses built into the side of a small mound of turf, the soft light spilling from the round windows illuminating a small garden filled to bursting with all manner of colourful, scented flowers. Halting Nithoel, you turn your head to whisper to Thorin as he surveys his picturesque surroundings with a somewhat indifferent air. "Where now?"

Thorin dismounts and waits for you to follow suit before reaching out to take your hand. "Gandalf said to look for a sign and that we would know it when we saw it."

 

You raise a brow. "Right. As helpful as always, then."

Thorin snorts in agreement as you lace your fingers with his and together set off at a brisk pace towards the heart of the quaint village, checking every small house you pass for any indication of the elusive sign.

"What did Gandalf say his name was again?"

"Baggins."

You raise a brow and rack your brain whilst repeating it under your breath, as if hoping the discovery of the name would somehow show you the way. Instead you begin checking the mailboxes beside the fences, squinting at the fancily painted names in the darkness, "Brockhouse, Mugwort, Smallburrow, Whitfoot, .... Boffin...? No Baggins.."

When your search of the surrounding lanes prove fruitless, you made your way around the other side of the hill to search further, becoming more and more desperate as each new pathway and road still unearthed no discovery of the sign Gandalf had mentioned, no Baggins, or in fact, nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Trying to keep out of sight of a couple of drunken halflings returning home and singing loudly, you hiss and point instead in the direction of what appeared to be the small inn, nestled on the banks of a body of water - its soft light reflecting off the glassy surface. "Perhaps it's over there?"

Thorin grunts in assent and you can't help but grin at his stony expression and his obvious displeasure of having not been given clearer instructions by the wizard. He scowls darkly at your obvious amusement and you bite back a small giggle, trying your hardest to let your face fall back into a mask of seriousness. 

Carefully making your way down the hill and circumnavigating the small lake, you continue to check each house only to find them as sign-less and wizard-less as all the rest. Thorin curses harshly in frustration as you approach the tavern, startling a flock of roosting ducks in the reeds who begin quacking indignantly at the rude awakening. Still biting your lip to restrain yourself, you gesture to the inn from which a merry tune could be heard floating out from within. "Perhaps we could try-"

"No."

You raise a brow, near hysterical in light of his stubbornness and continue to follow behind serenely as Thorin walks steadfastly past the inn and begins to check the next row of houses - only to find those too bereft of any visible sign from the wizard. A good half hour of searching later and you come upon yet another path cut into one of the many rolling hillocks and glance around with a strange feeling of deja vu. "I think we have already checked this one."

Thorin too peers around, recognising the truth in your words and finally snapping, kicking a small rock with rage into a neatly trimmed hedgerow. "Where in Mahal's name are we!? I will be lost forever in this unforgiving maze of glorified rabbit holes, searching for a sign that probably does not even exist!" He turns to face you with such an expression of outrage that you find yourself unable to hold back the rolling wave of amusement waiting to burst forth from within. Your chest swelling with love for him, you choke on a snort as you collapse against Nithoel's shoulder and give in to your mirth. His eyes narrow and he shakes his head in disbelief of your uncaring and unhelpful attitude. "I'm glad _YOU_ find this amusing...."

You press your face into your horse's mane, a strangled gurgle rising up from your throat as you try to get a hold on yourself and speak through your renewed fit of hysterical laughter. "Forgive me.... I just adore you so much that.... that I sometimes feel my heart will b..burst..."

Less than impressed with your explanation, he huffs, stalking haughtily back the way you had come and leaving you to follow after him, still overcome by soft giggles that refused to subside.

It was as you were making your second trip around the village that you finally spotted it. A small lane that wound its way out of the town and that cut through the side of the largest hill in the area before disappearing around the back of it and beneath the shadowy eaves of a huge tree. "Thorin." He follows your gaze and raises a brow, instantly changing his direction to make towards the so far unexplored track. Following after him, you tug gently at Nithoel's reins, guiding him up the steep rise and over the hill. The sound of raucous singing comes to you on a gentle waft of breeze and Thorin smiles in recognition and relief, his pace quickening as he rounds the corner.

A very handsome looking house, the most elaborate one you had yet seen, comes into view, set into the very hill itself and overlooking the rest of town. The golden glow from the windows illuminated the small group of ponies tethered in and destroying the fairly large vegetable garden beside it.

The sound of hearty laughter echoes from within as Thorin steps through the gate, quick to point out a shining silver G rune etched into the green paint of the door. "This is the place."

As you tether Nithoel in the garden to graze happily with the rest, he straightens himself up and then lifts his hand to rap hard on the door, causing the noise inside the house to fall away instantly to silence. A moment later the sound of hurried footsteps and a latch being withdrawn come from within as the door swings inward with a gentle creak.

Soft candlelight spills across the flower beds and silhouettes the irritable dwarf king on the doorstep as the old Wizard comes into view, clothed as always in his customary long grey robes. You grin again as Thorin plasters an amicable half smile on to his face and enters, his tone deceptively light in the face of the indignity he had just suffered. "Gandalf.... I thought you said this place would be easy to find? I lost my way. Twice." 

Gandalf smiles warmly in greeting, as you hasten through the gate and follow after Thorin. You incline your head and return his smile as you step inside after him.

 "......I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

You roll your eyes and grin at the rest of the party gathered in the small entrance hall, none of whom seemed surprised in the least by your presence.

"Mark? There is no mark on that door! It was painted a week ago!"

Standing beside Kili you turn as the small, indignant voice rises up, noticing the halfling for the first time. Gandalf closes the door with a loud snap and gazes down at the excitable hobbit, exasperated. "There _is_ a mark. I put it there myself."

Smiling at his youngest nephew, Thorin removes his cloak and hands it to him before turning back to face the wizard. Gandalf gestures towards him. "Bilbo Baggins. Allow me to introduce the leader of our company..... Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin steps up to the halfling, his blue eyes penetrating. "So. This is the Hobbit."

 


	9. Actions Speak Loudest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only when we are no longer afraid, do we begin to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. They're finally getting there! We have some topless and lusty Thorin, and a butt load of angst. Uhm.. Sorry about that.. But there's some sweetness in there too, so I hope you'll forgive me. :/ Also, thank you for the lovely comments on the last chapter, I am extremely touched! Sorry I have not replied to them yet, but I will do shortly. I have just been so desperate to get this chapter up around a busy work schedule. Hope it doesn't disappoint! :)

The moonlight bathes the small village of Hobbiton in silver light, and you would find the view somewhat comforting and serene if not for the heaviness in your heart.

Standing at the small, round window in one of the halfling's many bedrooms, you gaze out across the flower-filled garden and into the night, thinking of all that had happened that very evening. 

The discovery of the map and key that Gandalf had apparently been safekeeping for many years had changed everything again. Up until now, the actual gravity and seriousness of just what Thorin intended to do had never really fully hit home, and it seemed to you now as though you had been living in a comfortable sphere of denial all along, no doubt one brought on by your happiness in being with him once more.

But now...  _now_  you had to fully accept that Thorin was indeed determined to see this all out to the very end, no matter the cost.

Of course, his surprise had been as great as anyone's at the existence of the items that his father had left with the wizard before he had gone missing, but this new turn of events had only seemed to strengthen his resolve. It was obvious that Thorin viewed it all as proof indeed that he was on the right path, and that it was truly his right and destiny to reclaim what had been so painfully taken from him.

Others, like you, had been a little more shaken - also never fully appreciating the task at hand until that very moment. You had overheard the conversation in the hall between Balin and Thorin - the old dwarf's voice desperate and pleading as he had urged his friend to return to the Blue Mountains and abandon this madness. His words had dripped with hidden meaning as he described for Thorin all the advantages of doing that very thing, and of the life Thorin could and would lead there now, should he only wish for it.

Balin's quiet words and fleeting glances in your direction had not been lost on either you  _or_  Thorin, even as you had sat on the worn, oak bench trying desperately to catch their muttered argument whilst watching Ori sketch over a cup of steaming, hot tea.

The latter's steely, blue gaze had also found you, the rich voice that you knew so well shaken and unsure for only a fraction of a second before the iron words of finality came tumbling from his lips. And there, like so many before him, Balin had failed to sway Thorin in his utter belief and surety, instead pledging to remain with his king through love and loyalty alone, even as you had. 

And so, thirteen dwarves, a wizard and a human would be setting out on a journey into the vast unknown at first light, albeit without your strange company's most baffling recruit.

What exactly the Hobbit's involvement would be had always been a mystery to you, ever since Thorin had told you about him. However, during the course of the evening you had pieced together Gandalf's plan for him and now it had all become clear. The Wizard seemed to be working under the impression that this gentle creature was somehow perfect for sneaking inside of Erebor, not only to see if the dragon still remained, but to also recover the Arkenstone of Thorin's grandfather. By doing so, it would render the dwarven council's previous words invalid and unite the seven great armies, bound by their oaths to the one who wielded the King's Jewel - thus placing them at Thorin's disposal to increase his chances of victory in the inevitable battle against Smaug for the Mountain.

You had to admit that not tackling the dragon head on as you had first thought gave you great comfort, but you still failed to see how Gandalf had thought that the gentle and naive Hobbit would be a perfect candidate for such a task.

Still, that was now a moot point, for even the wisest of all could make mistakes, as Gandalf had found out when the Hobbit, when explained what was required of him and given the contract, proceeded to faint and then refuse point blank to play any part of it. It wasn't as though anyone could blame him, and Thorin at least seemed unsurprised that his doubts over the Hobbit's involvement had proved accurate.

You sigh softly as these thoughts and many others run over and over through your mind, and you begin to absentmindedly hum under your breath the song that Thorin had sang before the fire only a short while ago.  

* * * * * *

The door opens quietly, warm light, broken only by his own shadow spilling into the small bedroom for a moment before he closes it behind him with a soft snap.

He takes in the sight of you, silhouetted in the pale light shining from the window, wearing nothing but a clean cotton shirt and pants and your freshly bathed hair loose in a soft cascade over your shoulders and back. He sighs softly, feeling his resolve slip a little further as he notes the tense angle of your shoulders and the rigidity with which you now held yourself.

Your heartbreak had been all too clear to him, when your eyes had met earlier, and as he had witnessed the defeat and resignation creep into your keen gaze, it had been under the realisation that some part of you had still hoped he would forsake this quest and return in safety to his halls. In that moment, despite the surety of his words to Balin, he had felt some of his determination falter - and for a fleeting moment he had imagined what it would be like to return to the Blue Mountains, to live a life of almost certain peace with you by his side. But then his grip had tightened on the sharp edges of the key he had grasped so firmly in his hand and knew there was no going back. That there would never be any other choice for him, no matter how much he wished otherwise. It was a matter of duty.

Not for the first time, he silently curses life for being so cruel, for leaving him unable to be free to live and love as he himself would wish it - and feeling despondent, he wonders what else Mahal could have in store for him. His entire existence it seemed had fallen from one sorrowful event to another and all he had ever known was heartbreak, toil and the heavy shackles of responsibility.

And then there was you.

The one he had adored since that very first night long ago, when you had reached out to comfort him. The one who had changed everything for him - who had shown him the rare glimpses of what joy life could hold if he would only let it in and embrace it.

He had always wondered, always questioned how he could have ended up so drawn to you, turning it over in his mind until it almost drove him insane. In the end, he had reasoned that Mahal never gave cause to anything without purpose, and that way of thinking gave him some semblance of peace, even if it was a peace still tainted by its fears, doubts and regrets - regrets that would eat away at his very soul on many a long, lonely night after he had been forced to cast you from his life. 

It had been of the greatest cost to him to leave you behind, and he had always carried the memory and agony of you with him every single moment afterwards, and never once would he feel truly whole again, even if he didn't ever fully understand why.

In a great sense of irony, those memories of you also became his one constant. And despite the torment of regret, they were his only happiness - guiding him through the dark paths of his own personal sorrows with the hope you might one day return to him so he could know peace once more.

And then it finally happened. You  _did_ return.

He had always prayed you would, but after many long years had passed in quiet longing, he had gradually lost all hope of you ever coming back. To see you standing there before him once more had been akin to being struck down by a thunderbolt - and if he was being honest with himself, he had still not quite yet accepted the fact that you were back in his life at all.

It had not been what he had expected, nor anything like the scenarios which he had fancifully played out in his mind. All the words he had longed to say and had imagined saying to you for so long had died on his lips the instant he had seen you. 

Shock was the most prevalent emotion he can recall. 

You were still young. 

The revelation of your ancestry being almost as much of a surprise as your return. And even though it was as equally as pleasant and in some way a relief, it was still something he had needed a while to come to terms with.

But he had. 

And there you were, returned to him at last. Strong, proud and beautiful - more than he could ever have hoped for or dreamed of - and has he had stepped up to you, as he had seen the love of him still shining so clearly and deeply in your eyes and felt you come to life beneath his disbelieving fingers, everything had changed for him once more and nothing else really mattered.

In a single moment of unbelievable clarity, the stabs of regret that he would never again have the small girl he had loved so much back in his arms, completely vanished when the gaping hole in his heart was suddenly filled by a bond and attraction of a very different kind, one that built upon already existing feelings and emerged instantly stronger and far more powerful than ever before. Here at last was a woman he could truly love in every way conceivable, his equal in every sense. The pull he felt towards you left him breathless, and in that split second he had known he was lost forever and that he had been right from the very start.  _This_  was what Mahal intended.

Despite his utter surety that this - that  _you_  - and you alone were destined to be the only one he would ever love, this new realisation and bond brought with it a whole new host of fears and doubts - and the regrets he had long harboured also seemed to pain him anew, becoming fresher and more raw. His conviction of the end result did not stop his thoughts and emotions swirling in a jumbled torrent that he had little hope of ever making sense of.

The only thing he knew without doubt was how hopelessly he loved you - how much he had always loved you. And even though that love had now changed into something significantly more, many other things would always remain the same. You would always be the one he was weak with, and even weaker without. The only one who could make him see sense or reason, the one he could so readily and easily admit his fears to. And he was afraid now. 

Despite a very obvious and charged atmosphere between the both of you, he had never thought for a single moment that your clearly obvious love for him could also change, or that you could ever view him as more than a beloved friend or guardian. After all, how could you? Leaving aside the fact that he was a dwarf, and not what most women outside of his own race would find desirable, he was also afflicted by a stern temperament and brooding nature that was in direct contrast to your own. As far as he was concerned, he could never hope to be the kind of mate you deserved and had accepted that almost right away, despite it meaning a life of certain solitude for himself. No. He was content to have your affection and your companionship, and that would be enough.

But then, against all his imagining, you had kissed him. Such was his shock and surprise that you could ever want to be with him in that way, that he hadn't known how to react. He was sure at first that it must have been a mistake - a moment of madness in the need of comfort. You had just woken from a terrible nightmare, after all. But then he had seen the rejection in your eyes brought on by his lack of response and knew it was much more than that, and suddenly his fears had taken new shape. 

He had returned his lips to yours, partly to banish the look of hurt in your eyes, but more than that to ask the most important question of himself. At first it had seemed strange and almost wrong. Not only because he had never been intimate with anyone, but also because he was still struggling to separate the feelings for the child you had been from the new-found love of the woman you had become. 

But then, as you had melted into his arms and he had felt your fluttering heart racing under his palm in reaction to his lips, he had realised nothing had ever felt so right in all his life. It was pure acceptance. It was as simple and honest as the three words you left so easily upon his skin. It was like coming home at last.

And that petrified him.

Afraid of once more losing or being unable to protect the most precious thing in his world, he had been forced yet again to make the hardest decision of his life - the decision to leave you behind for the second time.

If he had ever thought the first excruciating, it had been _nothing_ compared to how he had felt then. His broken heart had barely beat as he had sat watching you sleep, and the parting words that he'd hoped would bring you some small comfort had refused to come as easily as the bitter tears that had streamed down his face.

All through that night he had written, pouring his agony and his heart out on to the clean, crisp pages of blank parchment.

Besides a letter, a contract he wrote. One that he had always thought he would never be blessed enough to make, and certainly one that caused him far more difficulty than the one he'd afterwards drafted at the wizard's request. 

This deed contained words of deeper meaning, eternally binding. Words from the heart, from the very depths of his broken soul. It contained promises, not terms, and with no vow of any cash payment at the end, but a vow to cast aside all of his fears and doubts regarding the many obstacles you would both face, for the sake of his undying love. So sure was he, that he had signed it without a second thought and placed it on the table beside the letter, left needing only one more signature to complete it.

It had been his every intention to leave it there, hoping the details of his regard that it contained would bring you further comfort in his absence, but as he had steeled himself to take one last look at you, to press his lips softly to yours and leave his heart on the pillow beside you, he realised how selfishly he'd acted.

Had it really been for your comfort or his own that he had written those words? Would it really be fair to ask that of you when it was his firm intention to leave you behind and break your heart all over again? What if he never returned at all? Could he truly expect you to stay bound to his fading memory and never have the chance to find your own happiness? He couldn't believe how thoughtless and blind he had been, and has he had strode swiftly from the room he had snatched the parchment back up with clenched fist and stuffed it angrily in his bag and out of sight before his nerve failed him. There it had remained, a constant reminder of what and whom he had left behind, seeming to burn against his back with every step he took away from you.

Still, at least he'd had the comfort of thinking you would be safe, and he'd hoped with all his heart that his letter would still be enough, both to convey his affection  _and_  to stop you following after him.

But in that second moment of extreme blindness in which he afterwards guessed he should have known better, you did follow - and Thorin couldn't say which pained him more. Leaving you behind or leading you into oblivion.

Despite all his arguing and pleading, you still remained, and a small part of Thorin hated himself for the pride he felt in capturing your heart and unswerving loyalty to that extent. Not to mention the fact that it was unheard of for  _anyone_  to out-stubborn a dwarf.

He allows himself a wry smile as that last thought enters his head and then sighs, his heart too heavy to feel any kind of amusement for long. Weary fingers reach for the buckles of his belt and unfasten it, tossing the heavy garment aside, to be quickly followed by his coat and mail. Down to his shirt and pants, he kicks off his boots and turns back to you, still standing in the same position by the window.

You were everything he could ever want, the one who clearly loved him so much that he questioned every day how he could have ever possibly deserved it, and he needed your comfort now more than ever. To feel close to you and know the peace you gave him.

Hating himself for feeling so weak, he finally steps up close behind you and wraps his arms tight around your waist. Leaning into you for support, he closes his eyes with a deep sigh and rests his head against your shoulder, burying his face into the silky waves of hair there. "I am sorry."

Relaxing easily into his embrace, you're pulled from your own musings when his voice comes as a whisper filled with sadness. Turning your head slightly, you rub your cheek gently against his to comfort him, feeling the scratch of his coarse beard against your jaw as you frown in confusion. "For what?"

His hold on you tightens desperately as he leans into your gentle affections, "For ... For  _everything_..."

You lace your fingers with those resting on your stomach and squeeze tight, not needing any further clarification from him to know what he meant. "There is nothing to be sorry for. I am with you, Thorin."

The words are spoken with such finality and resignation that it almost breaks his heart, and he turns you gently by the shoulders to face him, seeing your utter resolve mirrored in the depths of your eyes. He reaches out to frame your face in his large hands, slowly running both thumbs along the outline of your jaw as he studies you intently, once more committing your features to deepest memory. "So fair..." 

You colour slightly under his fingertips at the compliment, and he strokes at the blush, his breathing deep and steady as he loses himself in the memories of all the times you had gazed back at him like this - intelligent eyes filled with so much warmth, understanding and trust. And above all, love. 

 _Always love._

Caught in the momentary grip of emotion and longing, his fingers tighten on your chin when he leans in to kiss you, causing your breath to catch in your throat as his mouth meets yours, tender and questioning. Lips soft and sweet, you respond eagerly, seeking to answer his questions with silent promises of unequivocallove.

He closes his eyes, his worries escaping him easily and already lost in the warmth of your affection when his gentle fingers slip slowly from your face to lose themselves in the long waves of your hair.

You melt into his embrace, closing the last remaining distance between the both of you and pressing all the tighter to him, searching to give him the solace you could tell he so desperately sought.

Your fingers clutch at his back, trying to find purchase on the unyielding mass of muscle hidden beneath the thin cloth of his shirt as you hold him close - allowing yourself to inhale the hot, earthy scent of his skin, and feel the hard ridges tense and flex along his chest as he shifts against you. Your bodies move in perfect time, rising and falling together as each strives to get ever closer, limbs entwining until it was impossible to distinguish who was who. 

Heartbeat pounding in your ears, you share his breath, quick and warm, your lips parting with ease to grant him the access his tongue now sought. A small sound of encouragement and pleasure escapes you, one that he quickly devours as he deepens his kiss to send all sense and reason swiftly evaporating from your mind to be replaced by a growing recklessness and burning hot need.

He groans quietly in response, his grip in the hair at the back of your neck tightening, fingers grasping, holding you in place as his tongue joins with yours, swirling, exploring, tasting the very essence of you - his self control escaping him even as swiftly as his passion builds, the rolling, red-fire waves of it running through his entire body to burn at his very senses.

A charged current licks up from the ground, its electricity ensnaring you both and keeping you locked together as it courses through you, further adding to the intense heat now pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

Thorin moves against you with more purpose, the delicious friction further stoking the white-hot flames of desire when his fingers leave your hair to run lightly down your sides and hips. His wandering hands barely go noticed until his touch suddenly comes to rest more firmly on the small of your back. Your racing heart stutters, missing a beat, maybe more, and you tremble, tensing slightly as with hardly a pause his large hands continue ever lower, slowly, carefully caressing the curve of your backside before squeezing tight at the firm, fullness of flesh they find there.

His ragged breathing spills warm and fast against your face as you give yourself over to the heady feeling of being touched by him more intimately than ever before, and sure he was bound to come to his senses at any moment, you press yourself desperately against him, craving more, needing more, never wanting him to stop - your racing heart joining with his as you feel his growing desire and arousal all to clearly, pushed hard against your inner thigh.

Thorin responds to your unspoken plea for closeness and his own need, when his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs and he swiftly hoists you up against him as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. Beyond inhibition, you wrap your legs tight around his waist for support, arms encircling his neck, another small moan escaping you when his kiss becomes far more hungry and desperate in response to your overwhelming eagerness for him.

Unexpectedly, he shifts you in his arms, and you suddenly find yourself being unceremoniously placed upon the broad window sill, scrolls and books sent scattering to the ground as he presses you back hard against the panes of glass and pins you there beneath all the glorious weight of his upper body. 

Gasping at the icy cold feel of the window against the now searing heat of your flesh, you break the kiss, wide-eyed and breathing hard as your gaze rises up over his rapidly heaving chest to meet the dark desire raging in his pitch black eyes. 

A moment of silence descends, broken only by your synchronised breaths, and the very air around you stills - time seeming to lose all meaning as you squirm beneath him and lean away. Your heart pounds more traitorously behind your ribs and your mouth goes dry as your eyes lock with his.

Keeping him trapped in the possessive circle of your thighs, you reach up a trembling hand, palms sweaty, and fumble for the top buttons of your shirt, trying desperately to quell the fears and doubts that were rising up to gnaw at your stomach as you slowly begin to unfasten them one by one. 

Thorin's lust-fuelled expression falters, his disbelieving gaze never leaving your face as your hand moves ever lower, and you nearly lose your nerve when you hear the breath hitch in his throat as you reach the very last button and pull it loose. Letting the thin folds of black material slip silently from your shoulders, you pull your arms free of the sleeves and let the shirt fall away down your back.

Bare chested and vulnerable you emerge before him, waiting for him to take what was his, what would always be his. Your breast heaves and you bite your lip nervously as your eyes flick back to his, searching desperately for his reassurance. 

A long moment passes in which he continues to gaze at you in stunned silence, and unable to bear the tension any more your eyes fall from his and into your lap. Face hot, your fears of him not finding your body desirable and of his rejection become very real and you suddenly wonder what you were thinking in being so bold with him. You shift uncomfortably, wondering how on earth you could get out of your current predicament when his hand suddenly enters your vision, the backs of his fingers brushing your burning cheek before they gently lift your chin.

His eyes freely roam the length of you, slowly rising from your navel to linger for a while at the fullness of your breasts, making you tremble awkwardly until they continue upwards and come to rest on your face again. Once more surprised to find the sting of rejection in your gaze, his expression softens and he shifts slightly between your thighs as he caresses your jaw, his eyes warm and earnest. "I love you."

The words come soft, almost as a whisper and your heart begins to beat again, thudding dully with the very realisation that it had been the first time he had said it directly. You lean into his gentle touch and force yourself to look into his eyes once more, feeling as though his gaze was searching your very soul, stripping it bare, leaving you open with every thought, feeling, flaw and emotion laid out clear for him to see. You take a deep, shaky breath of relief and relax a little, seeing clearly the truth of his words in his face and wondering why you had suddenly become so nervous. "As I love you." 

He smiles softly and leans in to kiss you again, but you stop him as you reach out for him instead, fingers twisting at the buttons of his shirt now and popping them open one by one to reveal the bronze expanse of skin hidden underneath. His hand brushes against yours as he moves to help you, swiftly unfastening the rest for you before letting the offending shirt fall away from his body and to the floor.

He stands before you, half naked and proud, the perfect image of all the times you had watched over him on those long, humid, summer days in the forges of men - only this time he was within reach and you were at last free to touch him in the way you had always dreamed of and longed for.

You reach out with reverent fingers, pausing for only the smallest second to gather yourself before laying your hands flat against his chest and feeling the heat of him seep directly into your skin for the very first time. You breathe deeply, your every sense heightened by this new proximity as you begin to map out the hills and valleys of his body, your gentle fingertips tracing every line and dip within reach.

He was unlike anything you had ever seen before. Not like any of the Elven men, smooth, pale and hairless as they were, and not even like the many Men you had seen, shirtless and hot as they worked in fields or warehouses. Despite his size in comparison to those other races, Thorin's entire physique showcased to perfection a strength and power in which most would find intimidating, but that to you had only ever promised safety and protection. Fragile was something that he would never be, created as he was to stand even the greatest of hardships, and you had to admit that Thorin could be considered an exceptional specimen even by dwarven standards -  and flawless by yours.

He watches silently, unmoving as stone, amused by your loving fascination with him and revelling in the new sensation of delicate fingers caressing his skin - of soft touches from even softer hands tracing the scars of battle that rougher, more masculine hands had tended, before slipping ever lower, through the coarse hair of his chest and then through the finer strands that ran in a single dark line down his abdomen.

Your fingers pause at the waistband of his pants, exploring the taut muscles of his stomach as you give yourself over to your desires and lean in, tracing the previous paths of your touch with your lips. Thorin's strong heartbeat stutters as the heat of your mouth envelops the small, erect circle of his nipple, your tongue swirling, tasting, your teeth gently grazing the hard nub of flesh and eliciting small groans of pleasure from him.

His fingers find your shoulders, unable to stand your teasing. He leans in to capture your lips with his own and pull you close again, desperate to feel the velvet softness of your naked flesh against his own.

You groan into his mouth as your body melds with his, the perfect blend of snow white and golden tan. You were two parts of one glorious whole coming together at last, and the feel of him pressed hard against you was enough to send you spiralling firmly out of control. Thorin's hands were everywhere, tenderly, reverently exploring every part of you that had up until now been denied him. His worshipping touch quickly comes to rest on your breasts, rough pads of thumbs rubbing gently at the hardness of your nipples as he cups each in his large hands, caressing, massaging, making you pant and writhe all the harder beneath him.

Your back arches desperately as you move against him and his lips fall from yours to press firm kisses along your jaw and throat, his mouth tasting every inch of the new flesh available to him, unable to get enough. 

You let your head fall back as he pushes away the hair from your throat to give himself better access to the delicate skin around your collarbone, not noticing the thin, leather thong falling out from beneath the silken locks until he nudges the cold, hard metal with the tip of his nose. He pauses with a frown, releasing your soft skin from his lips and opening his eyes to come face to face with the small, crested flower etched into silver - a sight which instantly dampens the unbearable aching in his groin and suddenly replaces it instead with a deep ache within his chest. His heart skips a beat as he just stares at it with wide eyes, unable to look away as the shadows of a thousand memories, thoughts and emotions come flooding back into his mind.

"Thorin?" You glance down, missing his kiss and confused as to why he had so suddenly stopped with his ardent affections, the comprehension dawning on you and making your heart sink as soon as you see his pained expression. Your eyes flick between his face and your own throat as he continues to gaze silently at the ring he had given you in parting so very long ago. "Thorin?" 

He remains silent, lost now to himself, his broad chest heaving for breath inside your warm embrace. Your reach up to tenderly run your fingers through his hair, the contact meant to soothe and calm as you brush the stray strands back from his face the better to see him. "What is it, my love?"

He shakes his head, acknowledging you at last, his eyes still wide and fearful as he releases your flesh as though burned and pulls himself from your arms, unable to believe he had come this close to losing control. "Forgive me...But I can not do this."

His weight vanishes from you as he pulls back, leaving you instantly missing his warmth as the chill creeps across your now exposed skin. You frown in hurt and confusion, reaching out to gently lay your hand on his arm. "Why not?"

He flinches almost imperceptibly at your touch, coming well and truly back to his senses and absentmindedly reaching up to grasp firmly at the small amulet he wore at his own throat. All the reasons he had given himself for not leaving the contract for you in Ered Luin come back to haunt him. Was this not exactly the same? To be sure, it was a different set of circumstances, but it would only bring about the same conclusion. Once again, he couldn't believe he had selfishly put his own desires above yours. It seemed to be becoming a habit, and not one he was particularly proud of.

He works his jaw and remains silent, unable to speak as your gentle touch moves slowly up his arm to grasp at one of the braids resting against his shoulder. "You miss her?"

It was more a statement than a question, and not for the first time Thorin winces at your uncanny insight - your deceptively light tone not going unnoticed either. His eyes flick up to yours, fearful of hurting you, but finding no way to avoid the situation except by telling you the truth. He swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. "It is more a regret that pains me the most."

Your frown deepens as you continue to stroke at his hair, twirling the thick braid between your fingers. "What regret?"

He gazes back at you quietly, choosing his words with great care before speaking again. "The regret of all the years lost. _That_ is what I miss. The time I could have had with you, spent in peace and happiness. No matter what happens when or even  _if_  I reach Erebor, no matter if I succeed and reclaim that which was lost there, I will still never be able to reclaim the seventy years I lost with  _you_." His eyes search yours, apologetically. "Forgive me... It is only that, since the day you returned, the decision I made to leave you behind in Bree has pained me like never before. And it is especially raw tonight."

You sigh inwardly, his words stinging your own feelings of guilt and sadness. "I am so very sorry, Thorin."

He raises a brow, confused and surprised by your apology, "For what, my love?"

You shrug, hopelessly. "That I did not return to you sooner. It is all my fault. I let my fears and my own weaknesses take control instead of following my heart. I wasted so much of that time and I will never forgive myself for my mistakes."

He shakes his head earnestly as he reaches out to frame your face, "If I had never left you behind in the first place, that would never have happened. The blame lies with me."

"No. It doesn't. As I have already said, you did what was right for me then. And who is to say that had I stayed with you, you would have harboured the feelings for me that you do now? No. You made the correct decision and I did not." You push yourself up into a more comfortable position and regard him sagely as you attempt to council him. "However, everything happens for a reason and what is done, is done. No amount of wishing for the past will change anything or make it so. We must look to the future, Thorin and concentrate only on that, or we shall both be driven to insanity. As the future is so clouded with uncertainty, I would suggest that we make the most of each day as it comes and not dwell on that which is painful and irreparable." 

He straightens up and rubs at his temples in frustration over his own feelings of weakness and fear. "If only it were that simple."

You gaze at him imploringly, not wanting to lose this night with him. "Why can it not be?"

He shakes his head, moving at last out of the circle of your thighs and leaving you feeling more exposed than ever. You draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and watch as he begins to pace before you, clearly agitated. "Because even if I could cast aside all of my regrets as you so wisely suggest, it still leaves me with the fact that I should not have done..." He gestures between the both of you. ".. _this_... I do not know what I was thinking. I have acted without thought or honour in my own selfish desperation to feel close to you, and I have risked laying insult on you by doing so, and I hope you can forgive me for it. It seems I am always incapable of acting in the proper manner in regards to you."

You continue to look on helplessly, a permanent frown etched upon your brow as you struggle to push down your painful feelings of rejection and convince him otherwise. "But you have not acted improperly! And I see nothing wrong in wanting to feel close. I wanted that too and still do! So please, tell me what is really bothering you and do not lie to me, Thorin. You were always bad at it and so transparent whenever you tried."

He pauses in his pacing, regarding you from the corner of his eye, his fingers once more finding the trinket at his throat and grasping it as though it would act as some kind of shield against the emotion he was struggling to contain. "Only to you."

You fold your arms over your knees and hug them to yourself all the tighter, your control of your feelings not as strong as his. Your gaze comes to rest on your mother's pendant, clutched in the tight circle of his fist. "Well in this at least then, I have not changed. Take comfort in the fact that some part of the child you loved still remains, however small."

He frowns in confusion of your words and raises a brow. "I am sure much more than a small part of that child remains in you. In many ways you have not changed, Askâd."

You shrug, slipping as always into a façade of indifference to mask your heartbreak. "Well, I would have to trust your word on that. It seems to me that you spend so much time longing for  _her_ , that you do not even see who  _I_  have become." Your nails dig into your own flesh as you fight to reign in your feelings of abandonment and fail utterly, your every pent up emotion screaming for release and to be directed at the one who was your everything. You regard him with eyes of ice, your voice dangerously soft, "I mean to say, is it even  _me_ that you love? Do you even know yourself? Because it feels like you only ever look to father me, protecting me still like you did of old."

He staggers as though you had slapped him, the hurt that your words had caused him appearing deep in his eyes. He takes a moment to recover himself, breathing deeply in an effort to stay calm, whilst wondering how the paths of your mind had led to this. "I did not realise those things changed with age - so of course I will always look to protect you. Because I love you.  _You_. In my eyes, you and the child are one and the same, and I see both clearly! So, you are mistaken if you believe I do not see you as the woman you are now. I fell in love with her the very moment I saw her, and it only continues to grow the stronger." He plasters a small smile on his face, trying to lighten your quickly darkening mood. "Although I admit I never expected you to be such a wicked temptress.."

You raise a brow, unimpressed at what appeared to be his attempt to make light of both the situation and of your hurt. "A temptress? Truly? Well, I do not appear to be a very good one, judging by results thus far."

His smile falters and another flash of pain and regret crosses his face. All the intense tutoring and experience he'd had could never have prepared him for this. He muses momentarily why his grandfather had never spent more time teaching him about the politics of women instead of the politics of ruling, for it seemed the former was a far more vast and formidable subject. He racks his brain for a way to ease the quickly escalating argument, as confused as ever to what was really on your mind. "You think that I do not desire you, then? That I do not find you to be the most beautiful creature in all of creation, or want you with every fibre of my being?"

You lift your chin, looking him directly in the eye, grieving for continuing to wound him so, but unable to stop lashing out and taking out the hurt you so strongly felt upon the one you loved. "Do you though? Because I think you do not know _what_ you want, Thorin. Believe me, I am suffocated by my own regrets, but you, _you_ cling so desperately to the past, so afraid to live that you are all but blind to the present."

His eyes darken, his confusion and frustration fuelling his quick temper and destroying the last of his patience as he recognises some truth in your words. "Have you suddenly lost your mind, Askâd? You do not know of what you speak."

You gaze back, placidly, indifferently, wanting his rage if only for the knowledge that he felt some passionate emotion towards you. "No? Then tell me the real reason why you refuse to make love with me tonight. Tell me why you hold back from me."

He whirls to face you fully, his growing anger pulsing through his veins and throbbing at his temples. "You would demand of me the very thing which you are so unwilling to give in return? Whenever I ask you to speak your mind, to open up to me, you always refuse! I am left in a constant state of confusion in regards to your thoughts and feelings, and never once have I been able to work out what it is you actually desire of me! It is driving me insane!" He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice, suddenly aware of possibly waking the rest of the company. "Do you ever stop to think that I speak the truth? That I genuinely believe that I would only be insulting your honour by being intimate with you tonight? Forgive me, Askâd... But I feel as though I have never once done right by you, and I am loath to repeat those same mistakes. If I would do this at all, then I would do it in the correct fashion. It may not mean the same or be so important a thing to the children of _Men_ , but it is to _Dwarven_ folk, and it certainly is to _me_. There are also many things to consider and discuss before even thinking of taking such a monumental step, and yet you would have me take you right here and now as if it were nothing more than a shameful one-night tryst. Is _that_ what you want? Could you truly love someone who values you and your virtue so cheaply? _Tell me_!"

You blink back at him in silence, feeling small in the face of his rebuke and your eyes shining with unshed tears. Your heart tears further inside your chest, leaving you reeling and wondering how what started off as such a pleasant and intimate evening had suddenly come to this, with each throwing knives at the other. It had also been the first time that Thorin had ever brought differences of race into the argument and that simple fact alone turned your insides to ice and heightened your fears, leaving you feeling foolish and more distant from him than ever. It was akin to watching your bond slip through your fingers like water, powerless to do anything to stop it. And even though his reasons made sound sense when applied to any other couple, you could never once be considered a normal pairing, and with time running out, you couldn't help but see nothing wrong with wanting to spend what could possibly be your last ever night together in safety by being intimate with him in the way you had always yearned for - a way in which he himself had instigated.

"You know, I had three choices Thorin. To never return and leave you with your fading memories - to return but never pursue you and hope to gain a place by your side as your friend - or to return, follow my heart and open myself up to all the pain that came with doing so." You laugh softly to yourself, no trace of amusement evident in your face or tone, but more a sense of bitter regret and a sad sense of irony. "How I wish I had never listened to your sister, if only to spare us both this agony."

You swallow hard, still holding back the tears, not wanting him to see you cry or show him your weakness as you steel yourself to admit your biggest fear to him and risk his rejection utterly. Your voice small, you can't disguise the break of emotion in it as you begin to speak again. "You really want to know what it is I want, Thorin? What it is I desire of you?"

When he remains silent, your eyes find his again, "It is _you_. Just you. You're all I have ever wanted or wished for. And I hate myself for asking for so much, for being so selfish."

You sigh softly, losing all the strength to fight anymore. "I had never once in all my imagining, gotten past the part where I told you that I loved you as more than my friend, my protector. I thought that alone would be enough to secure your rejection, but it didn't - and that has brought with it a whole heap of new problems that are eating away at my mind...

...These past few days have been something from a dream - a blissful fantasy where I love you and you love me, and nothing else matters except that. It has been a pleasant fiction and I have happily shrouded myself in that sphere of childish denial, not wanting to face the harshness of reality.

But I can not do so any longer.

Every step you take towards Erebor is a step away from me, and I feel that no matter what awaits us there, I will not survive it either way."

Thorin frowns, hanging on to your every word in his desperation to understand you. "What do you mean?"

You lean back into the wall and shrug, gesturing towards him over the top of your knees. "You are the heir of Durin himself. The king and rightful ruler of your people. And because of how close our relationship has always been, I forget that. But the truth is inescapable. If you are successful and reclaim the throne that was denied you, what place will there be for me then?"

He takes a step towards you, his frown deepening. "Your place will be beside me, as it always has been."

You raise a questioning brow, "Will it? In what way? As your friend? Will I have to stand by as you realise that you are not free to love as you desire and must put your duty as king first, bound as you are to the will of your people. Will I have to endure the torment of watching you choose a wife and produce an heir as is expected of you?..." Your voice breaks again with the thought and you take a deep breath to steady yourself before continuing, desperate to get it all out now. ".. Or would you even think to choose me as your mate, as I have long desired? I am not so naive as to think that would _ever_ be accepted by your kin. And you also know that to be true. You only have to see how the council reacted towards me to know the implications that such a decision would cause. And besides that, we may not even be compatible in the first place! As you just so painfully reminded me, you are dwarven kind and I am a child of Men, and according to you, we are not in any way similar..."

A single tear finally falls unbidden down your cheek and you wipe it away angrily, "I am so afraid.. Afraid of how I feel for you, and afraid because I can see no happy outcome to all of this. Maybe I have been wrong to fear the dragon, because at the moment such an end would seem preferable to me."

Your shoulders slump in defeat and you hug at your knees all the tighter for comfort, red-faced and humiliated, and upon seeing your anguish, Thorin instantly cools, sighing as he steps up close to you. Reaching out to touch your cheek, his heart aches when you can't even bring yourself to look at him anymore. Wrapping his arms around you instead, he holds you close against his chest, noting the tenseness with which you sat unmoving in his embrace. He presses a warm and tender kiss in your hair and rocks you gently, his natural instinct to comfort and protect you at all costs overriding every other emotion except the relief he now felt at knowing your mind at last. "Forgive me, my love."

You shake your head and close your eyes against your hurt. "I just wanted this one night with you.. Is that so wrong of me? To ask for one night where I could put aside all these fears and forget everything except how much I love you. I could never have regretted that Thorin, nor ever felt ashamed of it - no matter what is to come."

Thorin's hold on you tightens desperately as his heart breaks in his chest. "No. It is not wrong of you. But I do wish you could cast aside your doubt and trust in my love for you, because there will never come a single moment when I will desire to be with any other except you. And as king, it would be my right to decide who I will spend my life with, and they will have no choice but to accept that."

You lift your eyes to meet his, your expression one of guilt. "Thorin, please. I heard your conversation with Dain before we left the Ered Luin..."

Thorin masks his surprise with a shrug, "Then perhaps you will have also heard what I said in return? I made you a promise, did I not? If you desire it, I shall abdicate and Fili will take the throne instead, as was planned."

You eyes widen, complete shock leaving you speechless for a moment, "But... You believe I would ever desire that!? I know I have been selfish, but do you think that I could ever let you do that for me, even for the sake of my heart!?"

Framing your face between large hands, he gazes back at you intently. "And what of _my_ heart?"

When you remain in stunned silence, lost for words again, he sighs deeply and carefully lifts you from the window ledge to carry you over to the bed, too tired and emotionally drained now to remain standing anymore. You go without further protest, holding on to him tightly until he lays you down on the soft mattress and slips under the covers beside you, huddling close against your back to try and lend his warmth to the coolness of your skin. Leaning over you slightly, he gently brushes back your hair and places a tender kiss against your cheek before blowing out the candle and plunging the tiny room into shadows and silver moon. You lay there side by side for what seems like hours, in a silence only broken by your gentle breathing - each struggling with your own feelings and the reasons behind them. A million arguments and emotions run through your mind as you think over everything that had been said. "Thorin?" 

He shifts slightly beside you and you can feel the heat of his breath on your shoulder. "Yes, dear one?"

"You were wrong before."

He raises a brow in the darkness, "I have already assumed as much. But to what are you referring?"

You shrug, your voice barely a whisper as you close your eyes at last. "That our coupling would not have meant the same for me as it does for you... I just wanted you to know that."

The simple statement cuts through him like a thousand hot knives, hurting him to the core. And long after you had finally fallen asleep, he remains awake, turning your words over and over in his mind, the deed residing in his bag burning into his thoughts until his eyes become heavy and he finally sinks into the welcome release of sleep.

* * * * * *

You awake sometime before dawn after only a couple of brief hours of restless sleep and open your eyes to find Thorin already awake and staring back at you with an unfathomable expression. The memories of the previous night come flooding back as soon as your gaze meets his and you roll over awkwardly, pulling yourself from his loose embrace to sit up on the edge of the bed without so much as a word or second glance.

Despite having laid bare-chested against him all night, you keep your back to him in embarrassment as you get up and recover your shirt from the floor, desperate to have it back on to give you some kind of barrier against the overwhelming vulnerability you still felt. Swiftly slipping the buttons back into place, you try to ignore the feel of his eyes burning into your back as you run your fingers through your sleep tangled hair and tie it back with a thin leather thong before quickly reaching for the rest of your clothes.

The bed creaks from behind you as Thorin too rises and begins to get dressed, and you purposely avoid looking at him as you wash in the cold pitcher of water laid out on the dresser and then snatch up your bag, eager to leave the the tense and palpable atmosphere permeating the small room before you choked on it.

He grabs your arm to stop you as you brush past him to reach the door. "Askâd..."

He turns you to face him, the haunted look in your eyes taking his breath and making him pause. Your feelings of hurt, rejection and insecurity were still all too clear to him, and he longed to banish them all for good, but couldn't for the life of him work out how he was to smooth over the conflict of the previous evening. "Can we not be civil and discuss this calmly? I would resolve this argument now and not let words that were spoken in anger or hurt fester between us."

You raise a brow, pulling your arm free of his grip. "You wish to talk? I thought we had both said all we needed to say last night, my Lord. I have no wish to add further salt to the wounds."

He sighs deeply, throwing his towel on the bed as he reaches out to grasp your shoulders instead, "I am sorry for some of the things I said and did. And even though it appears like that is all I achieved, it was not my intention to hurt you in any way."

You step back from him, eyes downcast, not wanting him to see the true extent of your pain. "You did hurt me though, Thorin. I let you in, allowed myself to be vulnerable with you, opened up to you, and despite all your words of affection, you still rejected me. You know it has always been my greatest fear, and yet you still did it. And whether it was for the right reasons or no, it pains me beyond imagining.. Especially when you instigated that intimacy in the first place." 

You take a deep breath and finally look up at him again, "So please, I just want to forget about it. It was ridiculous to get involved in such an argument over something that now might never be, anyway. Better we concentrate on surviving and make plans for _that_ , instead of an uncertain future."

You turn on your heel and move to the door, slipping through it without so much as another word or glance, leaving him staring after you with a heavy heart.


	10. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Road Goes Ever On And On, Down From The Door Where It Began..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long one this time. Realised the release of DOS is only four days away here and I'm not even halfway through film one, so I have to get a move on! Thank you so much for the staggering comments received on the last chapter, and as always I appreciate every single one of them :) This chapter has a hot bath and some hair braiding happening at some point, because let's face it, who wouldn't!? Happy reading :)

 

 

The small kitchen was packed and noisy as you tossed your bag down near the door and entered, the bustle providing a welcome relief from the feelings surrounding your relationship. You return the cheerful greetings of some of the company as they quickly move to and fro, rustling up a haphazard breakfast - dwarven style - with the leftovers of the hobbit's pantry.

A cup of hot tea is soon pushed into your hand as you pick your way towards the wizard - sat in a corner with his own mug and trying to keep out of the way of the commotion. He studies you intently from under furrowed, bushy brows as you make your way over to him, in a way which suggested that not all of your argument the previous night had gone unheard. He gives you a fatherly smile when you finally reach him and sit down next to him with a barely concealed yawn.

"Rough night?"

You eye him shrewdly as you take a sip of your tea. "We know one another better than to play games, Mithrandir. And I am too weary to try."

He smiles again and pats your arm, his eyes twinkling fondly. "Of course. Forgive me." He leans in closer and lowers his voice, "...And tell an old man to mind his own business if you wish, but if I might make a suggestion?"

You nod into your mug and he continues, confirming your earlier suspicion. "Then, forgive him too. He cares for you deeply."

You rub at your tired eyes in frustration, not really wanting to talk about it and yet needing someone to try and make sense of what you could not. "I know he does. As I do for him..." You break off as Dori places a plate of ham, sausages and eggs between you with a bow before rushing off to help his younger brother serve the other hungry mouths clamouring for food.."..Love, it seems, was _never_ our problem. It is the fear of the problems that our love could cause that _is_ the problem."

Gandalf inspects a fat, half-burnt sausage for a moment and then blows on it to cool it before replying. "Fearing things that may never come about is never wise, dear one." He pops the sausage into his mouth and chews appreciatively while you groan in remembrance of the very similar words which you had spoken to Thorin as he had expressed his fear of you joining him on this journey. The old man swallows before continuing as though he had never paused, "...And a love such as that which you bear for one another is a precious gift not to be spurned in fear, but rather cherished and nurtured."

Your eyes narrow as you look up at him, his air of friendly concern striking a strange cord within you. "Wise words, indeed. But I admit, I am curious as to know why _you_ take such an interest? Tell me, Mithrandir.... When did the Istari become Middle Earth's relationship councillors?"

Gandalf's face falls into a mask of innocence, and yet he couldn't quite disguise the guilt in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. "I just despair to see you looking so miserable, dear one..." His attention is drawn across the room as Thorin enters the kitchen, looking very much how you felt. Your own eyes meet the piercing blue for the most fleeting of moments before you quickly look away, cheeks colouring. Gandalf sighs and turns back to study you, now staring pointedly into your cup. "Him too..."

You shake your head, refusing to be brushed off with false explanations as Thorin seats himself at the far end of the table without a word and is quickly served his breakfast by Ori. "No. It is more than that.. I have been very interested to learn why you are so adamant that I join Thorin on this expedition."

He raises a thick brow in surprise. "Are you saying that you would have _ever_ been convinced to stay behind?"

"No. I would always have followed him. What I am asking _you_ , is why you have so ardently fought my case with him. And the reasons behind it. There is so much that does not make sense to me. Why you so desperately wished for me to remain with him the night I returned and we were reunited - And why you helped me to follow after him when you finally realised that he would not freely accept my coming with him. What are you hiding, Gandalf?"

He opens his mouth, momentarily dumbstruck and lost for words, unable to disguise his growing guilt with every accusation you utter. Finally he admits defeat, seeing you would not be so easily swayed. "I helped you and pressed your case for many reasons. One, for the very reason I have just stated. Unlike Thorin, I wasn't so naive as to think you would have ever been convinced to stay behind. I know well your utter devotion to him, which brings me to another reason. I think that you will be good for one another, and he will most certainly need you before the end. More than he even realises right now. And so will _I_ , for that matter."

You raise a brow and he smiles apologetically. "I know well your talents and I think you will be of great benefit to the company on this quest. But more than this, you understand and know Thorin better than anyone. You know well his temperament and how stubborn he can be. However, he talks to you. He will listen to you like no other, and I truly believe there is nothing he would not do for you if you were to ask it of him. Therein lies your _true_ value to me."

You fidget slightly, a feeling of unease growing in the pit of your stomach. "I do not like where this conversation is heading, Mithrandir. What is it that you are planning that you would so use me to sway him?"

Gandalf sighs at your expression of suspicion and squeezes your arm. "My lady... We have a map that even _I_ can not read."

Your realisation spreads through you, the answer so clear in the wizard's pale eyes and the pointedness of his words. " _Lord Elrond_ , then? You mean to lead us to Imladris?"

The old man's silence is enough to confirm your theory and you take a deep, anxious breath. "Thorin will not take kindly to that in the least."

Gandalf shakes his head, "No. He will not. Which is where you will come in useful to soften that blow for him. We need to learn that map's secrets, my Lady, or this quest will fail."

You sigh softly, unable to rid yourself of your feelings of discomfort. You glance up to find Thorin gazing back at you, watching your whispered conversation with suspicious interest. You quickly look away again and help yourself to a slice of buttered toast and a couple of sausages. Chewing thoughtfully for a moment, you try to find another solution to the wizard's problem, but fail to come up with anything remotely plausible. Standing resigned instead, you wash your quick breakfast down with the remainder of your tea before turning to him and leaning in to whisper in his ear, your grip tightening on his arm. "Very well, Mithrandir. I will help you where I can, for the simple fact I trust you and so far you have never led me astray. However, I know you also appreciate candour, so know this... I can not assume to know everything you are planning, and you have always kept your secrets close, as is your way. But I would tell you now that I will never betray him..." You lean back to gaze intently into the old man's fathomless eyes, making sure you got your point across. " _Never_...No matter the cost."

He gazes back, seeing the truth behind your thinly veiled warning and nods, also resigned. "Very well, dear one. But I think that one day you may yet find yourself put to the test."

You release his arm as though burned, his words causing your unease to settle deep in your heart. You shake your head in denial and turn on your heel, leaving two pairs of eyes staring after you as you exit the room.

 

* * * * * *

 

Before long, the company was finally ready to depart. Closing the door to the hobbit's little home, you take one last look around, suddenly very sorry to leave.

The dwarves had swiftly cleaned the place from top to bottom, and no trace of you ever having been there remained, except the now empty larder and a contract which Thorin had left in plain sight upon the table. Sighing, you snap the door shut and make your way to the vegetable patch where the others were making their ponies ready to ride.

Thorin stands with his own mount a little apart from the rest, Nithoel's halter clutched tightly in his hand as he waits for you.

You step up to him without a word, deft fingers tightening the girth before you relieve him of the reins. He leans toward you, his breath warm in your ear. "Care to tell me what that was all about?"

He nods almost imperceptibly towards the wizard already mounted on his own horse and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. "It was nothing more than a difference of opinion. I want answers and Gandalf does not like giving them." Without another word you spring up into the saddle, leaving Thorin watching you suspiciously as he follows suit.

Once you were all mounted, Gandalf nudges his horse into a gentle walk and leads the column down the hill, toward the fast approaching dawn and the unknown adventure it would bring.

 

* * * * * *

 

Over tiny rivers and streams and through leafy glens you travelled at a leisurely pace, leaving Nithoel to his own devices and lost in your own thoughts - unaware of everything around you and not paying any attention to the laughter and happy chatter of the others until you find yourself riding beside Thorin once again.

For most of the morning your mind had drifted in its exhausted state, playing over and over again the argument of the previous night and Gandalf's subsequent advice. Your cheeks coloured and burned at regular intervals as the path of your thoughts constantly led back to the rough hands that had freely explored your body and of the reverent fingers that had caressed you so intimately. Drowning in the feelings of longing these daydreams inspired, you didn't even notice as Nithoel wound his way up the column to walk beside the only other person he felt at ease with amongst this group of strangers.

Your leg brushing softly against another brings you back to your surroundings and you look up to discover the betrayal of your horse when you meet Thorin's concerned gaze. Your face flushes again and you lower your eyes, using the excuse of the heat of the late morning sun to your advantage as you let go of the reins to remove your cloak.

The awkwardness between Thorin and yourself was almost insufferable, so palpable that it only served to add to the heat burning at you from the inside. This distance was a new feeling to you who had always felt so close to him, and you wonder fleetingly if he too felt the same - if he perceived the void that your deeper intimacy should surely never have caused.

Ignoring his furtive glances, you instead open yourself up to the conversation of the others in an attempt to distract yourself, only to find them in the middle of some sort of debate.

"He's never going to show up, Gandalf." Kili's voice rises above the others and you turn curiously in the saddle to survey his wide grin of triumph.

The wizard puffs on his pipe up ahead, unconcerned. "There is time yet. We shall see."

Nori rummages in his inside pocket and you suddenly hear the tinkling of coins as he withdraws a small, leather bag. "How about a wager says he doesn't?"

Gandalf glances back over his shoulder to find you watching him with interest. His eyes twinkle as he gives you a small wink of amusement. "Very well."

You snort suddenly with mirth, reaching down into your boot for your own pouch. "Well, I for one will never bet against a wizard." You turn to look at Kili again, "How about it, little Prince?"

Kili grins wider, giving you all the answer you need, and you return the mischievous smirk as the rest of the company quickly dig into bags and pockets for money pouches and loudly place their wagers with one one another with much heckling and brotherly teasing.

Reseating yourself, you again come face to face with Thorin, watching you with a raised and disapproving brow - finding such things to be beneath him. The smile leaves your lips to be replaced by an expression of defiance. "What? I am about to teach your nephew a valuable lesson in life." You lift your chin when Thorin's brow suddenly disappears into his hair. " _Dis_ would approve."

He suddenly snorts and rolls his eyes, unable to stop his fondness shining through in light of your outraged and defensive expression. " _That_ is what worries me."

You shrug indifferently and regard him with a wicked glint in your eye. "And what about you, my Lord? Will _you_ not chance a wager with me?"

He shakes his head, beard twitching. "I am afraid not. You see, I have already learned the lesson that you are so desperate to teach my nephew, and it is not something that I care to swallow twice in one day."

You visibly deflate, unable to disguise the stab of hurt his words had caused, and his smile falters when he sees it, not meaning for you to have taken his teasing statement to heart. He sighs deeply when you turn away from him again in silence, fervently praying for the strength to resolve the differences between you before they became irreparable.

It was as he was desperately searching for a way to do so, that a faint shout catches his attention. He lifts his head in confusion to find his expression mirrored in your face. He glances back when the shout comes again, louder and closer this time. The company halts as one and you turn Nithoel to see a small figure charging through the trees after you, a length of parchment clutched tightly in his hand and fluttering behind him as he ran at breakneck speed through the bushy undergrowth.

Thorin raises a surprised brow as the hobbit comes to a stop before the company, breathless and grinning excitedly as he brandishes the contract at Balin. "I signed it!"

Your eyes move to Gandalf and the smug-yet-proud expression he wore as Balin takes out his eye-glass to examine the signature. "Everything appears to be in order! Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." He winks and smiles kindly at the halfling and Thorin rolls his eyes for the second time, his bad mood clear in his disdain as he nudges his mount into a walk again.

"Give him a pony."

The hobbit's immediate protests drown out everything else as you urge Nithoel to follow on - and a startled squeal from behind you signifies when Bilbo finds himself suddenly in the care of Fili and Kili and placed on one of the spares against his will.

You smile to yourself as you catch up with Thorin again, feeling a sort of smug satisfaction that you had been right to side with the wizard - a satisfaction that only grew as the momentary excitement quickly dies down and the talk turns back to the wagers. At the end of the column Oin's happy voice cuts through the chatter as he shouts up to a very irate Nori. "Come on! Pay up!"

You hold out your own hand to catch a small bag of coins as they whistle through the air towards you, and you turn to study Kili's sullen look with a merciless grin. Thorin also regards his nephew for a moment, his expression almost as chastising as that of Fili, who punches his younger brother's arm in disappointment. "Never come up against a wizard _or_ a woman Kili, or you will surely lose. Let that be a lesson to you..."

However, Thorin's admonishment of the youngster is short lived when he is suddenly distracted by his new burglar's urgent need for a handkerchief.

 

* * * * * *

 

Midday of the sixth of your journey brought you at last out of the rolling hills of the Shire and left you looking upon a familiar sight. For the past few days, Thorin had pushed the company onwards at a gentle pace but for long hours, travelling relentlessly between first light and dusk with only the minimum time made for food and rest.

Aching and exhausted you dismount and stretch your cramped muscles with a groan, eyeing the open gates and narrow, dirty streets of Bree with the utmost distaste. Thorin drops to the ground beside you, wrapping his cloak more firmly about himself as he turns to the rest of the company with a stern expression. "Remember your purpose. Stick together and keep your eyes open. Speak to no one without need and when you have your supplies, regroup as quickly as possible at the Prancing Pony."

Everyone nods their assent and Thorin leads the way into town, stopping first by the stables to leave the horses in the care of a young lad with a handful of silver pressed into his palm. The company then splits into their pre-arranged groups and makes their separate ways, cloaks and hoods wrapped tightly around themselves and soon indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd of Men, Hobbits and other Dwarves as they seek to lose themselves in the masses going about their daily business.

Thorin's hand finds the small of your back as he guides you out into the bustling street, his eyes missing nothing from beneath his hood and alert for any signs of danger as he swiftly urges you towards the Apothecary you had been so adamant on visiting. He opens the door for you as you reach it and the bell tinkles as he ushers you quickly inside - your eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom of the small, dingy shop after the brightness of the sunlit street outside.

Nodding politely at the old man standing behind the counter, you waste no time in striding over to the far corner where sat high shelves packed and weighed down with all manner of herbs and remedies.

Thorin closes the door behind you and rounds the small fire, spitting merrily in its pit in the centre of the room, to stand by your side as you quickly browse each shelf and mutter quietly through your mental shopping list whilst searching out the items you required. Prizing open one dusty, glass jar after another, you weigh out small portions of each of the contents and hand them to him to hold for you while you climb the rickety, wooden ladder to inspect the topmost shelves.

Thorin taps his foot impatiently as you climb ever higher, occasionally catching the items you drop down to him and wincing at your precarious position on the creaky top rung as you stretch out ever further for a small, inconspicuous pot on the top shelf.

Finally managing to extract a small sprig of some plant he didn't recognise, you begin to climb back down and he breathes a small sigh of relief - until you fall into him, standing in your way at the bottom of the ladder.

" _Thorin_ , _wha_ -"

You frown in irritation and glare at him from beneath your hood, making him smile apologetically as he quickly reaches out for the new items too - carrying them for you in an attempt to appease you whilst you searched out the last few things.

Shaking your head at his over-protective nature, you peer intently into the final cabinet and select a few more useful bits and pieces before gesturing to him to signify that you were finished.

Relieved, he carries the bundle of items over to the counter and dumps them in a heap before the proprietor - folding his arms in annoyance whilst the old man slowly adds up each purchase and wraps it carefully. You sigh at Thorin's expression of utter dislike for being made to wait so long as he finally slides across a few coins and unceremoniously stuffs the small pots and packages into an empty cloth bag - causing you to imagine for a moment what Dis would think of his behaviour if she were here right now.

" _Please_ tell me that we will actually _need_ whatever it is I have just bought."

Sighing wistfully at the thought of Dis, you follow Thorin back out on to the busy street and squint in the sunlight as he readjusts the bag on his shoulder. "You will thank me for it at some point, I'm sure." When he eyes you sceptically, you continue. "Besides, don't lay the blame _entirely_ on me. Half of that is Oin's."

Thorin grunts noncommittally and says nothing as he weaves his way through the throngs towards the centre of town, keeping you close beside him.

 

* * * * * *

 

A visit to the tanners, the forge and the butchers later and you finally begin to make your weary way back to meet the others in failing light, bags laden down with as many fresh supplies as you could both carry. Heads bowed and tired feet scuffing in the dirt, you round a last corner in the darkening lane and at last come upon the warm, welcoming lights of the Prancing Pony - the sight making you pause in your tracks as you gaze up at the faded sign, swinging in the breeze. A rush of memory and anxiety rises up in your chest, catching you off guard and taking your breath as your eyes come to rest upon the wide, stone step before you.

Of course, you had followed Thorin to Bree on many occasions in the past as you had watched over him whilst he carried out his business. But that had all been without his knowledge, and you had always made sure to give the tavern as wide a birth as was possible whenever visiting the town. This time it was different. This time would be the first time you would stand on that step, the first time you would both be here and truly together since the day he had so painfully left you behind. The vivid memory of it claws at your mind and suffocates you until it makes your starving lungs burn and eyes sting with bitter tears screaming to fall.

Thorin turns as he reaches the doorway, not realising you were no longer behind him until he sees you standing there alone in the middle of the street, a forlorn and broken figure, overcome by emotion. His expression instantly softens in empathy as soon as he sees the tormented look on your face, and he hastens back to your side. "Askâd..."

His voice comes quiet with pity and you tear your eyes away from the inn to look up at him, seeing his understanding in his eyes. "I'm sorry.."

He reaches out to gently wipe a stray tear from your cheek before wrapping an arm around your waist to comfort and support you as best as he was able. "It's alright..There is nothing to apologise for. I understand."

You nod and lean into the warmth of his side, breathing deeply as he leads you out of the road and guides you patiently on to the large, grey slab of cold stone on which you had parted so long ago. He pauses and turns to face you again, dumping his bags and pushing back your hood with his free hand the better to see you as you take another steadying breath and try to control the panic attack that still held you in its firm grip. "And here we are at last, come full circle."

Clenching your jaw, you gaze back at him, remembering so clearly as though it was yesterday, the last time you had stood here with him. He tenderly caresses your jaw, his own vision oddly blurred as he too remembers. "Here in this very spot, our regret was born. Would it not seem fitting then, if we were to end it here?"

You frown at him questioningly, concentrating only on his eyes in an attempt to steady yourself. He visibly sags with some sort of hidden care, his voice cracking. "Tell me how to fix this, Askâd. _Please_...Tell me and I would do it. I can not bear this distance that has come between us these past days and I would rectify it now, if I can."

Your chin finally trembles when his voice breaks and you bite the inside of your cheek hard to restrain the sob that was aching to be let loose from your chest. You reach out for him and pull him into a tight embrace, fingers clutching painfully at the waxy fabric of his cloak as you hide your heartache in his hair. "It will be alright....  _We_ will be alright."

His own hold on you becomes even tighter as he recognises the emptiness of the words only said to bring him comfort, and realises that you held no belief in your statement nor knew the answer to his question. He presses his face into the warmth of your skin, not wanting you to see that he knew, or cause you more worry over his pain, but unable to disguise the tense set of his muscles.

Your lips find the side of his neck, placing a soft kiss there as you hold him close - knowing him too well to be fooled for even a moment. Resting your head against his shoulder, you stare out blindly into the dark street beyond his back, desperately searching for answers and knowing that you would have to once again make yourself vulnerable and risk further distancing yourself from him to fix this needless argument once and for all. 

Wondering how to go about doing so, your attention is distracted by a movement in the shadows of the lane and you lift your head from Thorin's hair to see a small group of swarthy and unscrupulous-looking men gazing back at you with shocked and disbelieving expressions. Half-drunk judging by their gait and slurred mutterings, they pause as one in their tracks to stare openly at you, still not quite drunk enough to be mistaken by what they saw - a human maiden, dressed in the gear of one of those unnatural rangers that sometimes frequented their village, being held in a very intimate lovers embrace with what could only be seen as a dwarf.

Thorin frowns when you release him far too quickly for his liking, your hand reaching for the hilt of your sword and watching anxiously for any sign of oncoming trouble from the men. "Thorin.."

So far oblivious to your audience, he follows your gaze, his expression untroubled as his keen eyes come to rest at last upon the small party across the road. In one fluid step, he moves in front of you and turns to face them - glaring back and waiting for them to speak or make any move against him. But none comes. Something in Thorin's smouldering eyes or fearless stance must have been enough to dissuade any thought of intervention on their part, and they swiftly move back as one into the deeper shadows and continue on their way - albeit with many a backward glance in your direction until they at last round a corner and fade from view. 

Thorin snorts softly to himself in satisfaction as he watches them scurry out of sight like cowardly rats. Turning back to you, he takes your hand in defiance, "Let them see. Let _all_ the world see. I will not hide my heart from anyone. Especially the likes of them."

You sigh softly at his sentiment, staring for a moment at your twined fingers before nodding toward the thick wooden door of the inn. "We should go inside before we either get into a pointless fight or the others send out a search party."

Thorin nods in agreement, his eyes not leaving your face as you readjust yourself and take a deep, steadying breath, "How I hate this place.." 

He remains silent, watching you draw your emotions in behind the calm façade he knew you always used to protect yourself. When he at last follows you into the warmth and light, it is with the bitter thought that this place too had been the source of most of his own heartbreak.

 

* * * * * *

 

You find the others in one of the many side rooms, all of them present and already seated around a large wooden table brimming with food and tankards of ale. Plastering a hard mustered smile on to your face, you sit down next to Thorin in the empty places reserved for you with a weary groan and reach instantly for the nearest mug of mead.

Welcoming Oin's conversation as he enquires after the procurement of his supplies, you haul the bag on to the table for him to inspect whilst all the time keeping an ear open to Gandalf as he tells Thorin of the rooms he had managed to acquire for the company in the south quarter.

Relaxing slightly at the thought of at least spending the night in a real bed, you begin to eat and drink in earnest, not realising how hungry you had been until that moment and happy to let Oin obliviously continue his very one-sided discussion regarding the beneficial properties of Comfrey and Feverfew, whilst you explored the very beneficial properties of good ale.

Once pleasantly full and the table as empty as only dwarves could ever leave it, everyone rises and collects their bags - eagerly heading out towards the annexed south quarter and the soft beds and hot baths that awaited them there. You take a deep lungful of the crisp night air, glad to leave the smoke, music and happy chatter behind you, finding it irritating instead of comforting in light of your current mood. Your eyes flick to Thorin, walking beside you with a furrowed brow and hunched shoulders, figuring he must surely be of the same opinion.

Upon reaching the small rooms set apart from the rest, the company quickly separates into pairs and bid their goodnight's as they retire to their beds - leaving Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin and yourself to take the last two rooms in the row. As the wizard reaches his door, Thorin glances to you from the corner of his eye, struggling with internal turmoil as he studies your expression before reluctantly deciding not to force himself upon you and room with the old man and the halfling instead.

Panicking slightly at the thought of him leaving you alone, you reach for his fingers and tug him back, wanting to keep him with you. "Thorin ... Stay with me..."

He gives you a small smile and a nod, squeezing your hand gratefully and seeming almost as relieved as you yourself. "As you wish."

Gandalf gives you both a surreptitious and knowing wink when he too wishes the both of you goodnight and slips through the door, leaving Thorin to follow you now into the very last room in the row.

Dumping your bags beside the door, you release Thorin's hand and gaze around the small bedroom, tired eyes passing over the twin beds, already turned down by the maids and awaiting you, and over to the merry fire crackling in the grate and the steaming bathtub that rested beside it. You turn to Thorin as he closes the door and dumps his own bags with yours, "Do you want to go first?"

He smiles softly and shakes his head, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "No. I can wait. Go soak while the water is hot."

You nod gratefully, "Push the beds together?"

He leans in to kiss your brow. "Of course.."

You give him a wan smile as he releases you and moves away to erect the screen around the bath to give you some privacy while you washed.

Once you had disappeared behind it, he sighs and begins to push the beds together as you had requested, rearranging the mattresses so that you would not fall between them during the night. Once satisfied with his handiwork, he kicks off his boots and stretches himself out on one side of the newly made bed, unable to help his eyes returning to the partition behind which you were now undressing.

The flickering firelight silhouettes your form against the thin paper of the screen and Thorin groans, throwing himself back against the pillows in frustration and covering his eyes with an arm. Breathing deeply all the while, he lays unmoving until he hears the gentle splashing of water as you climb into the tub.

Stretching out your aching muscles, you sigh appreciatively as you sink to the neck in hot water and reach for the soap on the washstand, not wanting to take too long so Thorin could also enjoy a hot bath.

It was as you had finished washing your hair and were ringing out the long strands that you were startled when his voice comes soft from the other side of the screen, "Are you decent, Askâd?"

You wipe the water from your eyes and face and frown at his shadow in confusion, your knees automatically drawing up to your chest to cover yourself. "As decent as I'll ever be whilst taking a bath."

He awkwardly switches his weight from foot to foot for a moment before finding his nerve and rounding the partition, a small bundle in his arms. "I have your towel and a change of clothes."

Touched by his thoughtful care, your expression softens as he lays out the items you had forgotten in your haste to have a bath on a chair beside the fire, whilst all the while trying to avoid looking directly at you. Reaching out to touch his arm, you smile gently when he finally meets your eyes. "Thank you."

He hesitantly returns your smile, his eyes taking in the damp hair plastered to your neck and shoulders before he quickly looks away and makes to leave. Your grip on his arm tightens, slim fingers closing around his wrist to pull him back towards you, making him turn and frown in confusion. "Come sit with me a while?"

He gazes at you for a few seconds with a wary expression, turning over your request in his mind and the possible meanings behind it, before relenting and moving to do as you asked. Sinking to the floor beside the tub, he leans against it and stares quietly into the glowing embers of the fire, his shoulders tense and carrying the posture of one who felt utter defeat. Your heart aches to see him so weary, especially when you knew it was mostly down to you, and you long to comfort him and set his heart at ease once and for all, as Gandalf had so wisely suggested.

Leaning back into your bath, you reach out towards him, fingers separating a lock of his silver hair from the raven mass that surrounded it and studying it in the firelight as you twirl it around your little finger. It was ironic you thought, this sign of age. Because except for the defeatist posture with which he now held himself and these silver strands, you had never once seen Thorin look so childlike and vulnerable in all your life as he did right now. Just as you yourself had never felt the same. "I have never thanked you, you know?"

He turns his head slightly to look at you and raises a questioning brow. "For what?"

You absentmindedly begin to run your fingers through the thin strands of hair, "For taking care of me... You _always_ took such good care of me." 

He smiles, his eyes gentle as he watches you closely. "Then in that case, there is nothing to thank for. Besides, you have returned that care tenfold over the years, watching over me as you did."

You nod in thanks for his words and finish untangling a small knot before letting his hair slip from your fingers with a sigh. "Tell me what you were thinking of, just now?"

"Anything and everything."

Hitching yourself up, you lean over the edge of the tub to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and rest your head lightly against his. Leaning into your unexpected embrace he relaxes against you when you press your lips to his cheek. "Such as?"

He runs his fingers lightly over your bare arms, "I was thinking of and fearing a day when I may no longer come to have your love.."

Frowning in confusion, your fingers find his chin and you turn his head to face you. "Why ever would you say such a thing? Do you truly believe that day would _ever_ come?"

His fathomless eyes move between both of yours, "Human hearts are fleeting. And I seem to have the ability to test yours to the limit."

Your frown deepens as you slowly shake your head, "Some human hearts may be quick to change, but _mine_  is not. After all this time, Thorin.. I would have thought you'd have known that you will always have my love. And even though I may sometimes be angry, confused or afraid, that does not mean my feelings for you will ever change. My heart belonged to you before I even knew what it meant."

His gaze returns to the flickering flames in the grate, his voice almost a whisper to match the sadness in his eyes. "I wish I had made love to you while I had the chance. If only to spare the pain of the last few days. This distance and awkwardness between us is unknown to me and tears at my heart. I wish I had proven my devotion to you."

Your heart squeezes painfully inside your chest and you blink back wetness gathering under your lashes as you caress his warm cheek with the backs of your fingers. "You have  _nothing_ to prove to me, Thorin. I know how much you love and care for me. But you should not have to fight for that...  _Or_ for me..."

He presses a tender and heartfelt kiss to your fingertips, "What else is there to fight for, if not love?"

You close your eyes with a gentle sigh, "I was hoping that if we survive this, and it is all over, you would never have to fight again... I grieve deeply for what life has thrown at you my love, and I wish for you nothing more than peace and happiness, not further sorrows."

He finally turns himself in your arms to face you properly, encouraged by the fact that you seemed more open to talking things through with him instead of quarrelling. "You _are_ my peace and happiness, Askâd."

"As you are mine. But I am such a mess right now, Thorin. I never envisaged the strife my loving you would cause us both. I thought revealing my affection would be the hardest part, but it isn't and I don't think I have ever felt so weak or vulnerable since I returned. I am not used to feeling so emotionally confused all the time, and I have certainly never cried so much in my life. .... I just wish it could be simple. It  _should_  be simple."

He leans in to kiss your brow, voice earnest and sincere. "Then let us make it so. Let us go back to where I love you and you love me and nothing else matters."

"It is a fantasy, my love."

He shakes his head adamantly, his tone quickly becoming impassioned as he strives to make you understand. "It does not have to be. Not if we both want it enough. And I do... Your fears of acceptance are not mine, dear one. I have never once been troubled by such thoughts, and I would swiftly deal with any problems if they should ever arise."

You sigh in frustration, releasing him momentarily to rub at your temples as you struggle to think and make sense of your life and its aspirations. "But the fact remains that Erebor is your dream, Thorin. And I understand that. So how then, as someone who loves you as truly as I do, could I let you even think of sacrificing that dream for my sake?"

"You are my dream too! And I would have _both_." He reaches for your hands and pulls them away from your forehead, not wanting to see you stressed again. "And you are fearing me making a sacrifice that will most likely never have to be made. My people know you and respect you. The risk is small. And if I were to be proved wrong, tell me that you would not do the same for me in my stead as I would do for you."

You let your hands rest in his, feeling somewhat defeated. "I would do the same. But that does not mean I don't feel selfish for having  _you_  want to."

He smiles softly, bringing your hands up to his lips and kissing the backs of your fingers. "Askâd, for someone so wise, you can be so ridiculous sometimes. You fell in love with someone, is all. Someone I might add, that returns your affection. What could possibly be selfish about that? Is love to be a crime now too? Or is it your fear that others will not understand it and so call what we have wrong? Because I have never met anyone so unselfish - and so giving with their heart."

"If we were to be together, it would be considered wrong by many though, would it not? The faces of the men outside tonight and the reaction of the council was enough to suggest as much. How could we possibly be expected to fight against a world who shared that opinion, Thorin? Could you truly accept living a life as an outcast just to be with me?"

He places your arms back around his neck again and frames your face with his own hands, "I have given everything a lot of thought over the past few days, and realised that you were right about what you said before."

You frown at him questioningly, "About what?"

He shrugs, stroking at your jaw with his thumbs, "That I have been so afraid of the future and so afraid to live that I have clung to the past. You were right when you said it has made me blind to all I have right here. I did not want to hear it then, but I suffer for it now and I see it clearly." 

He sighs deeply, his breath warm against your face and his nose almost touching yours. "I see this beautiful woman here before me, and I hope that she can one day forgive me for the hurt that I have caused her, for I would have her know that my love for her is infinite - and has been since long before I left her broken hearted on the very steps to this accursed place. If she could bring herself to still love me as she did, then I would gladly cast aside all my regrets right here and now and beg that she could do the same in return, so that we may cherish whatever time is granted to us with love and not bitterness. I would promise her that I would always seek to allay her fears if only she could bring herself to speak of them to me, and I would have her rest safe in the knowledge that I would fight for her and our love until the very end. No matter the odds. I _would_ win for her." 

When you don't reply right away he leans in to kiss you, swift and deep, his lips as warm and passionate as his words as he captures your mouth and claims it with his own. "Tell me this is wrong, Askâd..."

You shake your head, your arms tightening around his neck, "I can not... The world only feels right when I am with you .."

He murmurs his agreement as his lips find your jaw, "Then trust me ... All I ask for is patience. I just want to do right by you this time.. And I will not fail you ever again.."

You tilt your head back and close your eyes with a soft groan. "You have _never_ failed me, so do not say such things... And I do trust you, Thorin. With my life.... Except when you are being a cheat like now, that is..."

He frowns into your throat and pulls back to look at you in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You raise a brow, "Do not think that I don't know what you are doing. Distracting me away from our conversation so that I will agree to anything..."

He suddenly laughs softly, his beard twitching. "Caught out _again_."

Your gentle smile spreads across your face, wiping away the lines of care that had begun to etch themselves into your skin over the past days, and Thorin's heart lifts at the sight. "This is what I hoped for.." He strokes a thumb across your lips, "I would always see you smile, Askâd.."

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him, "I smile because yours is so contagious."

"And _rare_..."

You shrug, rubbing your nose against his. "Then it only serves to make it even more breathtaking on those special occasions when you actually do."

"I am beyond glad you can bring yourself to love such a foul-tempered misery as I."

"Always."

His smile widens and he presses another quick kiss to your lips as he leans over the edge of the tub and reaches his arms around you, pulling you close against him and reminding you finally of your nakedness when the coolness of your skin meets his warmth. He rubs at the back of your neck with a frown. "You're freezing!" Letting a hand fall, his fingers dip your bath, "...And this water is barely warm.."

You raise an amused brow, suddenly very unconcerned for the temperature of the water and definitely distracted instead by the feel of his hands against your bare flesh. "I have noticed. I'm sitting in it." 

His face falls and he pushes himself out of your embrace to quickly rise to his feet, "Forgive me, dear one. I have talked far too long and kept you from your bath." He reaches for the large, iron cauldron of fresh, steaming water on the hearth and lifts it off its hook from over the fire, paying no heed to the heat of the handle as he carries it over to the tub and adds it to your rapidly cooling bath.

You sigh softly as the temperature rises to a more pleasant degree and you mix the water with your hands to even out the heat pooling by your feet as he continues to pour. "...Much better, thank you..... But you will not get a hot bath yourself now."

He smiles softly as he returns the pot to the hearth. "It is no matter."

You chew your bottom lip nervously and gaze at his back from under your lashes, cheeks burning. "Well.... there  _is_  plenty of room...You could always bathe with me?"

Thorin misses a step and the pot clatters to the floor with a clang that would wake the dead. You choke on a snort and struggle to keep from laughing as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

You let your face fall into a mask of innocence, accentuated by the colour in your cheeks, and hold out your hand to him. "What? You have an issue with bathing with the woman you have just spent the last half hour professing your undying love to? ...Come bathe with me ... I _promise_ I will behave myself."

Thorin clears his throat gruffly as he straightens up to face you, his mind working furiously and not believing the sweet expression you wore for even a second. "Are you even  _capable_  of such a feat?"

You nod earnestly, your tone softening and becoming more serious. "When I am in want of something, yes. Come. Get your towel and bathe with me."

He shifts nervously on the spot for a moment, still torn and wary as he thinks it over. Finally the thought of being close to you in a hot bath wins the battle of his mind and he nods his assent. "Very well. If you wish it."

He disappears around the screen without another word and your heart begins to pound erratically as you hear him start to undress across the other side of the room. You lean back into the water and concentrate on keeping your breathing deep and even, your senses heightened and your skin tingling at the mere thought of being intimately close to him once more.

You listen intently as he rummages amongst the bags and then watch as his shadow grows ever larger on the screen until he comes back into view, wearing nothing but his pants and carrying his towel. He gestures for you to move forward in the water, thinking to sit behind you, but you shake your head. "No. I want you _here_." You point to the spot in front of you and answer his confused frown by letting your eyes slip pointedly to his groin. "I think that would be the most ...  _comfortable_ ...For both of us."

He groans and shakes his head, his cheeks colouring instantly beneath locks of coal black hair, "You said you would behave yourself!"

You stare back at him serenely, throwing up your arms in a gesture of surrender "I am! .. _See?_ I won't even watch as you get in." You hug your knees and press your head into the circle of your arms, causing him to snort derisively.

" _Fine_... But no peeking."

"Like I would." You bite your lip and grin into your own skin as you hear him take off his pants. "You know, my Lord, if we ever _are_  to be together, you can not expect this treatment always. I will want to see at _some_ point."

Thorin snorts again, waving his large hand before your head and making sure you had your eyes firmly covered before moving in front of you and quickly stepping one foot at a time into the tub. "That would not be a problem. You will probably tire of me walking around naked."

You giggle softly and raise a brow, restraining yourself from taking a quick look at him with the greatest difficulty. "Like I could ever tire of _that_."

He blushes more deeply as he finally seats himself down in front of you, "I will expect the same from you, you know..."

You open your eyes at last and grin wickedly at his back, your starving gaze taking in every bit of his skin that wasn't submerged. "Hmm... I had always imagined asking Dis to help me choose some things that would help boil your blood - seeing as I don't really keep up with dwarven fashions myself." You reach out to gently grasp his shoulders and urge him back against you.

He hesitates, having never found himself in this situation before and resists the pressure as he turns to regard you with horror, his blush now spectacular. "I swear upon Durin's name woman, you _already_ make my blood boil. There is no need to involve my sister ...  _or_  her taste in lace."

Unable to help laughing at his embarrassment, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, urging him back with more force as you open your thighs to accept him. He goes easily this time, leaning against your chest as you lay back in the hot water and take him with you. His weight presses hard against you as you envelop him in your arms and wrap your legs firmly around his taut stomach - embracing him in all his entirety and holding him close.

His tension visibly drains from his body as he stretches himself out and relaxes into your hold with a deep sigh. The lines of care melt away from his brow as he rests his head back upon your shoulder, the raven locks of hair splayed across your chest in stark contrast to the marble white of your skin.

You press another kiss to the top of his head, feeling somewhat overwhelmed at having him in your arms like this for the first time and so very vulnerable. "I am glad I make your blood boil. I find a sort of personal pride and satisfaction in it ... seeing you so out of control. It's intoxicating."

Thorin grins, rubbing gently at the soft calves that criss-crossed his stomach and held him in their firm grip, "You have always been my biggest weakness in one way or another."

You smile softly, "As you are mine."

Shifting slightly to get more comfortable, you close your eyes and rest your head back on the edge of the tub, enjoying the peace and quiet, and the warmth of his body against yours. Your fingers draw delicate, spiral patterns over his chest as you while away a small eternity in silence and let your aches and pains drain away into the soothing water that surrounded you.

Drifting somewhere on the edge of sleep, a shadow of memory crosses your hazy thoughts - one that had entered your mind before but one you had forgotten to question Thorin over in light of bigger worries. "Answer me something?"

He nods, moving ever so slightly against you as he rouses himself. "If I can."

Nuzzling into his thick neck, you breathe in the musky scent of his skin, your voice soft in his ear. "The last time we were here, you said something that I have never once forgotten and yet have always wondered of its meaning..."

"...Oh? And what was that?"

You lean forward a little to gaze at his profile in the firelight. "Just before you left, my uncle asked if you would take anything with you.... and you answered that you already had the most precious thing in the world. ... What was it?"

He turns his head to face you, his lips parting as his breath hitches in his throat. His soft eyes fill with emotion, and his voice comes as a whisper of surprise. "I can not believe you have remembered that all these long years."

You gently brush back a stray wisp of hair from his face and smile. "I remember clearly every single moment I have spent with you." You let your hand rest flat against his cheek and he leans his head against your palm. "Tell me what it was?"

He gazes deep into your eyes, lowering the last of his walls in the presence of the affection and warmth he found there. "It was your heart..... Your love, in whatever form it has taken throughout our time together, has always been the most prized and treasured thing to me... "

Your stomach twists and your heart swells with love for him as you press your lips softly to his. "And as I promised, you shall always have it."

He smiles tenderly, leaning back against your shoulder with a contented sigh. Picking up one of his long braids, you hesitate before bringing it into his line of sight and gesturing with it, "May I?"

He nods, tilting his head back further to look up at you again, "Of course."

Reverently, you remove the carved, silver bead from the end of the plait and place it carefully on the washstand before beginning to gently unravel and separate the long, silken strands of his hair - all too aware of how important and significant this act was in his culture.

You let the hair rest against his shoulder and start on the second one as you remember all you had learned on the subject in your time in Rivendell - of how a dwarf's hair was only second in importance to him after his beard, and the braiding of both would only ever be permitted to a family member. However, if a person not of blood was given permission, it signified that that person was considered to be the intended of the dwarf in question. As Thorin very much considered you of blood and family, you could not be sure which bracket he had placed you into by giving you his consent.

Placing the fifth and last ornament aside, you reach for the small wooden bowl on the stand, using it to scoop up the water from the tub. Shielding his eyes with your hand, you tilt his head back and pour the water through the thick locks and over his head, running it through with your fingers until it was completely sodden wet. Finding your soap, you rub it in your hands to build up a thick lather before proceeding to massage it into his scalp and outwards along the lengths of his hair.

He groans in satisfaction, melting completely into your body as you continue to work your soapy fingers through the waves and rid him of the dirt from the road. "I can not believe how you have so far stood for so much care and attention without _once_ complaining...I am impressed, my Lord."

He raises an amused brow, "I have been trying to be on my best behaviour for you ever since you mentioned the habit. Besides, I feel I could get accustomed to this kind of pleasant care very easily."

Smiling, you kiss his shoulder, glad to see him so relaxed and soothed by the contact as you gently untangle some mats and knots in his raven crown and admire the way the strands came loose and smooth in your fingers, "You know, when I left the Blue Mountains to come after you, Dis and I were extremely concerned about the welfare of this hair."

He frowns through soft laughter, suddenly intrigued, "You were? Why?"

You giggle quietly as you begin to rinse out the soap, "She said that with Fili and Kili in tow, you would soon be tearing it out and that I would catch up with you to find you completely bald. That is why I did not delay. As I said to her, your hair has always been a pleasant distraction for me."

His cheeks dimple as he continues to laugh, and you smile wider at the sound, wishing he could always be this happy. "And I thought our hair was something that only other dwarves could appreciate. Are you _sure_ you don't have any dwarf in you, Askâd?"

You shake your head and put the bowl aside, squeezing the water from his locks of hair whilst trying to control a wave of amusement that was threatening to burst from the pit of your stomach. "No. But I  _have_  been trying to change that."

Thorin gasps, his mouth falling open with shock and sure he must have misheard or misunderstood. He turns his head to face you in disbelief, only to find you staring back at him with that evil glint in your eyes, your face bright red and jaw clenched from trying to contain your laughter. A moment of silence ensues where he stutters and struggles to speak, and you finally crack, giving into your mirth. Thorin shakes his head in fond amazement, his face splitting into a smile as big as the sun as he too begins to laugh the deep bellowing laugh that you so loved, but that hardly ever came from him.

"You are _so_ very wicked."

The tears of laughter roll down your cheeks and you gasp for breath between a renewed fit of giggles. Clutching at his shoulder for support, you wipe your eyes and shake your head, trying and failing to look innocent and instead admitting it. "You _love_ that I am so wicked."

He thinks about it for a moment and then nods in agreement. "I do so love your non-existent sense of propriety, yes."

You finally manage to take a deep breath and chew at your lip as you grin back at him. "You were not meant to agree! As my legal guardian, aren't you meant to chastise me for such bold and un-ladylike behaviour?"

He snorts and shakes his head again as he gestures for the bar of soap. Breaking it in half, he hands a piece back to you and begins to wash himself clean. "Isn't that the elf's job now? I am happy to let _him_ worry about it."

Following his lead, you work up a fragrant lather against your skin, "My father never gave me to _Lord Elrond_. He gave me to _you_ \- with no instruction other than to look after me and take me to Bree. So, I would say it _is_ your job to worry about it, my darling."

He grins with the satisfaction of knowing you still classed _him_ and not the elf as your rightful guardian, feeling a sense of pride that made his chest swell - as you had known it would. "Very well. I will punish you later for your misdemeanours."

You raise a brow, still laughing quietly as you rinse the suds from your arms. "I look forward to it. Does this punishment of yours require me to be naked at all?"

He groans, the blush returning to his cheeks, " _Behave_ yourself!"

"I am!"

He rolls his eyes and takes the small bowl from you to rinse himself off, breathing out a long-suffering sigh. "Can we please just get out of this tepid bath before we both end up shrivelled?"

You kiss the back of his neck and place your hands on his shoulders, using him to steady yourself as you rise up out of the water from behind him. Standing, you carefully step one foot at a time on to the wooden floor and shiver. "I am sure that would damage _your_ ego far more than mine."

Grabbing your things, you wrap your towel firmly around yourself and give him your sweetest smile as you disappear around the other side of the screen, leaving him to finish off his bath in peace.

Once done, dried and dressed in only his pants, he folds away the partition to find you sat waiting for him on the edge of the bed, your freshly brushed hair in a damp cascade around your shoulders. You brandish the comb at him with a smile and he nods his assent, gesturing towards the fire.

Pulling a blanket and a pillow from the bed, you go to him and spread the throw out before the grate. Sinking down on to it you sit cross-legged and motion for him to join you. He glances down at his own naked torso, "My state of undress does not cause offence?"

You roll your eyes and suppress a snort, "Thorin, please. I have just bathed naked with you. I am only hoping you intended to sleep like that."

His gaze turns questioning, "Oh?"

You shrug, grinning. "I just think it would be a pleasant change not to wake up with the pattern of fine dwarven mail etched into my face."

He snorts and rolls his eyes, whilst still managing to look a little guilty. "Forgive me."

Winking up at him, you motion for him to sit again, " Besides, if anything, it is always your state of _dress_ that causes me the most offence."

He shifts awkwardly before sinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged to face you - making you wonder a little at his continued shows of embarrassment, "You know, many things I expected or knew you to be, Thorin... But _shy_ was never one of them... I thought I would be the only one of us to suffer from such."

He watches you with soft eyes that reflect the golden light of the flames, "As a general rule, it is not something I experience very often. It seems only you and my sister are capable of drawing any such emotions from me.... And I have a weakness for both of you that I can not deny. Now, with you, it is mostly due to my.... _inexperience_..."

You smile tenderly at the admission,"Then I think Dis and I are very privileged to be able to see that side of you." You take the comb to his hair, careful and gentle as possible as you begin to remove the tangles in the long waves. "Although, _I_ would also say that I have always found you to be infinitely kind and extremely loving. Inexperience or no, you have a big heart, Thorin."

He watches unmoving as you tend to him, his voice barely a whisper. "Thank you... But please don't tell anyone I have a soft centre. I have a reputation to uphold."

You laugh softly as you brush the lengths over his shoulder. "I am sure they already know. That is why they love you and follow you even as I do."

His eyes shine with warmth and affection, and his heart swells with pride at your words as he holds out the ornaments for you to fix back into his hair. Fingers deft and sure, you separate the strands and begin to braid, your brow furrowed in concentration as you strive to get them just right for him.

He remains still and silent throughout, his broad chest rising and falling steadily and his eyes never leaving your face as he thoughtfully watches you work. You reach into his palm for the very last bead and he closes his hand to stop you. "Not this one."

You glance up at him and frown in confusion until he reaches out for a thick lock of your own hair. "With your permission?"

You pause, unsure for the smallest moment and trying to quell your surprise - your heart stuttering when it dawns on you exactly _which_ bracket Thorin would place you in by braiding your hair with a bead from his own head. "Of course."

You sit as stone, hardly daring to breathe as Thorin's hands work at a plait that should have been far too intricate for the likes of fingers so large and rough, but one that he makes such easy work of. He fixes the ornament securely to the end and brings the braid to his lips before leaning back to admire his work. " _Beautiful_..."

You meet his eyes again and could tell by the look he was now giving you, that he hadn't meant only the braid.

You swallow hard, feeling the burning in your cheeks even before Thorin's hand falls to caress and brush at it in fascination with his thumb. "Do we understand one another better now my love?""

You nod, unable to speak, but going easily when he reaches out to draw you into his lap and hold you close.

 

* * * * * *

 

_The smoke thickens, the black, billowing shroud seeming to weigh down upon you and cling to your skin like a mantle of death._

_Your eyes burn and sting as you squint around quickly, looking for a means of escape. Your breath comes in jagged shards that tear at lungs already screaming for air, and a small sob rises unbidden to fall from your cracked and bloodied lips._

_An orange glow appears to your right as the smog shifts, and you run towards it, already knowing what you would find there._

_"Papa?"_

_Your feet hit stone as the familiar white causeway comes into view and you hurry forwards towards the hulking shadow of a wagon laying upturned in the soot blackened earth beside it._

_Heart racing beneath your breast, you round it, stumbling blindly over bags of spilled grain and root vegetables in your haste._

_An ominous roar tears the ground beneath your feet asunder, but you ignore it now as you make your way toward the outline of a figure laying broken amongst the splintered fragments of wood._

_"I'm so sorry Pap-"_

_You break off as another shadow comes into view, standing over the first, his face mostly hidden beneath a blanket of raven waves, "Thorin?"_

_You rush forwards towards him, the relief at finding him alive and safe coursing through you as you call out desperately to him. "Thorin!"_

_He looks up at the sound of your voice, something in his eyes stopping you dead in your tracks and turning your insides to ice. "Thorin?"  
_

_Where there was once life and love shining brightly out of blue crystal, now there was nothing but hatred and evil burning deeply from eyes of molten fire. A low rumbling fills the sky and the flames dance faster in those glowing, golden depths._

_A sneer crosses Thorin's face as he sees your fear and he points to the man on the ground at his feet, his voice mocking. "He failed you, Askâd. He promised to always be there, and he failed you."_

_You shake your head, the tears of salt burning the insides of your eyes as your heart breaks in your chest. "Thorin...What - Why would you say that!?"_

_He shrugs indifferently, the coals of his eyes smouldering dimly as he steps backwards away from you, quickly becoming shrouded in the poisonous fumes. "Because_ I _would never fail you..."_

_You rush to follow him into the dense cloud of smoke, confused and hurt as you reach out to grasp his arm. Your fingers clench but pass right through him, almost as though he had no more or even less substance than the vapour that surrounded him. Thorin begins to laugh a bellowing laugh - not the kind that you were so fond of, but one that was high, cold and bitter. It surrounded you from all angles, echoing off unseen walls to stab viscously at your ears._

_You turn on the spot, fear gripping your insides with iron hands and squeezing at your stomach. Behind you, the figure of the one you loved more than life begins to fade into nothingness along with his laughter, until at last there was only smoke._

_"Thorin?"_

_Greeted by nothing but deathly silence, you try to control the trembling in your legs as you turn back toward the figure of your father, only to find he too had vanished. You frown in confusion as you move closer to inspect the spot where he had only a moment ago laid._

_A sudden movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention and you squint up from the scorched grass to see a large, hulking shadow stalking you in the billowing clouds of ash - its gait longer and heavier than that of any being you had ever seen._

_You reach for your sword, only to find that you were no longer wearing it, and a helpless cry escapes your lips as you watch the giant figure circle ever closer with wide eyes._

_A pale arm comes momentarily into view, as white and unpleasant as curdled milk - its flesh scarred and mutilated beyond comprehension. A name from some long forgotten memory comes unbidden to your lips and you whisper it without thought._

_"Azog..."_

_Another laugh echoes in the darkness and the figure continues to advance, its hand grasping at something heavy you could not quite make out, but that made your stomach churn with dread all the same._

_A flick of a white wrist and the object is tossed towards you, its weight sending it tumbling and bouncing off the rocks and baked earth with a sickly wet sound, only for it to land at your feet._

_Unable to turn away, you look down in complete horror to find yourself gazing at the severed head of a dwarf, its heavily mutilated face hardly recognisable and soaked with blood that still glistened thickly in the coal black hair that pooled around the gaping hole where the neck should have been. But it was the eyes that held your terrified gaze the most. The cobalt blue that would now be etched eternally with fear._

_Thorin._

_Your scream rips through the shadows and turns everything blood red as the dwarf's cold, dead lips begin to move and a deathly voice chills you to the core. "All I asked for is patience..."_

"NO!!!"

Your scream wakes you and you sit bolt upright in bed, clutching at the sodden material of your shirt as your heart continues to try and break free of your chest.

"Askâd.."

He was there beside you, his large hands framing your face as he turns your wildly staring eyes to face him, and you shudder slightly as your gaze meets the fearful and concerned blue, expecting instead the cruel, molten-fire terror of your vision. "It was a dream... Just a bad dream..."

You stare back at him in silence, the traumatic images of your dream blurring into swirls of colour and distorted images as you seek out the love and tenderness in his gaze. Finding it very much there as always, you sag in relief, your muscles draining of tension and leaving you aching from head to toe as you realise the truth of his words.  

He brushes your lank hair back from your gaunt face and reaches towards the bedside table for his towel to wipe away the beads of sweat that clung to your pale skin and pooled in the hollow of your throat. "What did you dream?..."

You shake your head, still gasping for a breath that would not come and struggling to speak, "I ... don't remember..."

Throwing the towel aside he reaches out for you once more and draws you into his strong embrace, his comfort and warmth soothing you as nothing else could.  He kisses your cheek, his breath like a soft sigh against your skin. "I thought we agreed not to keep anything from each other anymore? Please tell me what you see..."

You clutch at the smooth skin of his back and screw your eyes shut against the sting of tears, the fading images swimming across your vision. "I dream of fire.... And of death.."

You take a deep, shaking breath at last and press your face harder to his chest, "... And I fear that patience is a gift we can not be granted."

Thorin's hold on you tightens almost painfully, and you knew without doubt that he had understood what you had meant.

 

* * * * * *

 

It was well before dawn when Thorin roused the rest of the company and made ready to depart once more.

Standing outside the door to your small room, you gaze up at the moon as it sinks steadily towards the rim of the earth and wait for Thorin as he gathers together the last of your things.

Gandalf emerges from his own door and shivers in the damp early morning chill, wrapping his cloak firmly about himself as he spots you and makes his way to stand at your side. He motions to the silver bead, glistening pale in the fading light of the moon and smiles smugly to himself. "Did you do something different with your hair, dear one?"

You turn your head to face him and Gandalf's smile falters when he takes in your hollow face and dark-ringed eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment, an equally exhausted looking Thorin emerges from behind you, his breath misting lightly in the air and his muscles straining with the weight of numerous bags. You rush to his aid, quickly relieving him of as many as you could carry, and Gandalf lets his questions die on his lips.

Once all the company was assembled and ready, you make your way through the silent and deserted streets towards the outskirts of town, staying close together and alert for watchful eyes in the shadows as you strive to leave Bree undetected.

Making easy work of breaking into the stables, thanks to the questionable skills of Nori, you soon have the horses saddled and their hooves muffled - leading them as quietly as you could out of the great gate and on to the road.

Striking a swift pace, Thorin leads the way as you circumnavigate the sprawling village under the cover of darkness - rounding the southern side and following the wall until you come at last upon the Eastern road in the pale blue light that heralded the approach of dawn.

Nudging Nithoel into a steady canter, you press on, letting his stride easily match that of Thorin's pony as the dwarf king exercises his well earned caution by putting as many miles between you and the town as possible before the sun fully rose.

On and on he pushed the company, past the tilled fields of farms and the squat wooden houses of woodsmen, until the land became more wild and uninhabited and the houses were few if not at all. Only when the sun beat high overhead and no sight of Bree or any other civilisation remained did he slacken the pace, and the company as one breathes a great sigh of relief and allows themselves to relax.

You remove your cloak and coat as the sun continues to grow the hotter and reach for your water skin - taking a long and grateful draft as the sweat continues to trickle along the back of your neck and down your spine. Eyes heavy, you slump in the saddle and Bofur, riding beside you, watches you with worry, as though he expected you to fall from your horse at any given moment.

Up in front of the column, Gandalf reseats himself upon his horse's back, his face etched with concern as he turns to find Thorin also watching you anxiously. "I thought the both of you would have resolved your differences by now."

A flash of conflicting emotions rage in Thorin's eyes as he looks up at the old man - suspicion, surprise of how much the wizard knew, worry, wariness and his own exhaustion were the most apparent. He stiffens defensively in the saddle, his tone somewhat short. "She hardly slept. _Again_."

"Ah.." Gandalf withdraws his pipe from the head of his staff and proceeds to light it with the tip of his fingers. "Nightmares?"

Thorin's stern expression falters and he raises a brow, "Yes.. How did you..?"

Gandalf shrugs, guessing Thorin's question before he had even finished speaking. "She is inflicted by the visions and torments of her kind."

Thorin glances back to you once more and lowers his voice. "They have to stop, Gandalf. Can you not help her? Every night I watch her toss and turn in the grip of these terrors and it scares the life out of me. They're killing her. And I would protect her from everything, but I can not save her from the darkness of her own mind."

"Nor can you save her from yourself."

Thorin's face falls as though the wizard had slapped him, "What do you mean?"

Gandalf thoughtfully studies the stern dwarf beside him for a moment before replying. "The dreams will only end when she has nothing left to fear. And she has many at the moment. The greatest of which will grow stronger with every passing day."

Thorin leans forward, overcome with curiosity, "Which is?"

The old man sighs, exasperated with the blindness of ordinary folk. "I would have thought it obvious. Her greatest fear is losing _you_ , of course. Only a fool could not see how much she loves you."

Thorin turns his gaze back to the road, his brow pensive as he thinks over the wizard's words.

Gandalf puffs serenely at his pipe, his own thoughts drifting through his mind like pieces of a puzzle - a puzzle that only he would have hope of ever fitting together. "I do wish you two would get a move on. It's becoming almost painful to watch."

Thorin's frown deepens and his voice turns loud in irritation. He clears his throat and lowers it again as he looks around to make sure he had not drawn attention to himself. The other's continued with their own conversations oblivious, signifying he hadn't. "It is not that simple!"

"Is it not?"

The wizard's apparent surprise does nothing to cool Thorin's growing frustration and he has to breathe deeply to try and remain calm. "No. It is not. You would have me rush head first into a union that has never before been seen, without a single thought?"

Gandalf seems almost amused by the suggestion as he tampers the leaf down in his pipe. "Without thought and consideration? No. But are you telling me that you have thought of _anything_ else since the night she returned to you?" When Thorin remains in silence, looking very much as though he'd stepped in something unpleasant, the old man continues, his expression smug. "Exactly. So what _is_ the problem? You believe she was meant for you, do you not?"

Thorin's voice drops into a whisper of shock, "Yes, but how did you-..." He waves away his own question, giving up on trying to work out how the wizard could know the things he did, when Thorin had thought those things were exclusive only to his own mind. "There are things I would give to her Gandalf, before asking her to bind herself to me. A home, a life ... and security. The likes of which she deserves and which all depend on the success of this quest."

Gandalf raises a bushy brow, "A noble ideal. And yet I wonder if she herself would consider those things important."

Thorin shrugs indifferently, unwilling to change his stance under pressure from the wizard. "I would not potentially leave my mate a widow only mere weeks after pledging myself."

Gandalf sighs, resigned to the stubbornness of dwarves. "Better to have loved and lost as the saying goes..."

Thorin's temper finally gets the better of him again and he snaps, "Not for the first time do you leave me to wonder what your interest is in her or our relationship, old one... What are you hiding?"

Gandalf chews thoughtfully on the end of his pipe and says nothing, keeping his secrets close as always and leaving Thorin to stew and think on his words in his own time.

 

* * * * * *

 

Dusk had well and truly fallen when Thorin called a halt for the day. You groan in relief and swing your legs from the saddle, taking Bofur's hand with a small smile as he reaches up to help you dismount.

"You alright lass?"

You nod, grateful for his chivalry as he gives you a warm smile and releases you. Turning back to his pony, he begins unloading the exhausted animal of its burdens, and following suit, you do the same, fingers struggling with the buckles of Nithoel's tack for a few moments before you finally rid him of it and set him loose to graze with the others.

Leaving the rest of the dwarves to get a fire going and prepare the evening meal, you stretch your cramped muscles and explore the small outcrop of rock that Thorin had decided to make camp on. Making your way past the sheer cliff face that protected your small gathering from the wind and any keen eyes travelling the road, you pick your way between a couple of gnarled, old firs to stand on the high ledge and gaze out at the moonlit vista below.

An owl hoots from somewhere far below and you smile softly to yourself, enjoying the freshness of the night breeze on your skin. A twig snaps from behind you, signalling Thorin's approach and he steps up to your side, his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his expression as grim as his mood now appeared to be. "Are you alright?"

You give him a small, tentative smile, "Yes. I am just tired. I feel as though I could sleep for a month and it would still not be enough."

He nods, his expression unchanged as he too stares out at the rolling landscape below. You frown gently, "Are _you_ alright, Thorin?"

He sighs deeply and turns away from the view to study you instead, "I found myself on the receiving end of Gandalf's reluctance to give answers is all. I now understand the irritation you yourself felt when faced with the same." He lifts the backs of his fingers to your pale cheek - a rare show of affection when in the presence of the rest of the company. "Come. Let us eat and warm ourselves and then you can rest."

You take his arm as he offers it to you and let him lead you back towards the others, all the while wondering what it was that the wizard could have said to upset him so.

The thought was still troubling you even as you wrapped yourself deep in your blankets and curled up at his feet - your eyes already heavy with the effects of the strong cup of camomile tea that Oin had made for you on Thorin's request. You stifle a yawn and push your curiosity from your mind, giving in to your exhaustion at last.

Thorin watches over you for a long while from his perch against a large boulder of granite. Satisfied that you were sleeping soundly for once, he allows his own eyes to close and his mind to drift - his relaxed state bringing him a clarity of thought he had missed, despite his tiredness, and allowing to make sense of many things that had troubled him before.

It was his youngest nephew's voice that brought him back from his peaceful meditation and he frowns in annoyance, rousing himself irritably to stare at an oblivious Kili, who continues to frighten the naive and gentle hobbit with stories of orcs.

The sound of Thorin's heavy boot crunching the small rocks by your head wakes you, and you open your eyes to view the carved, metal tip of his foot in front of your face.

"You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Sitting up in your bedroll, you squint around to survey the scene with confusion, feeling like you had only slept for ten minutes.

"We didn't mean anything by it." Kili's voice comes soft as he wilts under the stern, disapproving glare of his uncle. Your heart goes out to him, having been on the receiving end of that look many times yourself in your youth and finding the position to be an unpleasant one.

Thorin stalks off past the bewildered looking hobbit in the direction of the ponies, his voice seething with anger. "No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world."

Your frown deepens, and you wonder what the boys could have possibly done to earn Thorin's rage, or if it was simply a case of him taking out his foul mood on those closest to him, which wasn't unusual.

Balin steps forth into the firelight, a kindly expression on his face as he attempts to comfort a very disheartened Kili and your love for the old dwarf grows even stronger. "Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

You look towards Thorin, wondering momentarily if you should go to him, but something in the way he held himself prevented you from leaving your blankets.

_"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria."_

Balin continues and you sit up a little straighter, your attention now firmly on him as he begins to weave the tale, as only he could, of the battle of Azanulbizar. Bilbo sits down close beside you, his face pale and mouth hanging open as he too listens to the old dwarf's story with as rapt attention as you yourself.

_"Moria had been taken by legions of orcs, led by the most vile of all their race.... Azog. The Defiler."_

Azog. The name brings back uneasy memories to your mind. A scarred, sickly looking arm glimpsed through a blanket of smoke, and a party of orcs sat talking around a camp fire in the Downs, oblivious as you stalked them. You shiver and wrap your blankets tighter around yourself.

_"........The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin....."_ Balin's expression is pained and his voice breaks, _".... He began by beheading the King..."_

Your eyes fill with tears, the vision of the battle scene clear in your mind. However, it was not the majestic, silver head of Thror that pressed and burned into the backs of your eyelids, but one crowned with black, its blue eyes blank and staring.

_".....We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us..."_

Balin suddenly smiles, his chest swelling with pride, _".... That is when I saw him... A young dwarf prince facing down the pale orc.."_ He glances over his shoulder at Thorin's back as he stands, staring out into the night. You follow his gaze and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest as you remember him as he had been when you first met him - only a child himself in many ways and undeserving of the sorrow that life had thrown at him.

You return your attention to Balin to find that the rest of the company were listening now too, their eyes fixed firmly on their story teller and hanging expectantly on his every word.

_".....He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armour rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch for a shield."_

You close your eyes, able to see clearly in your mind the young Thorin of your childhood, bloodied with war and locked in battle with a faceless orc that towered over him, making him seem so tiny and fragile in comparison. His face contorted with the pain of grief that fuelled his burning rage, he picks up his fallen sword and with a mighty upward blow, sends the blade clean through rancid flesh and bone.

The roar of the huge orc fills your ears and you shake your head to rid yourself of the sickening image.

_"....Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back.... Our enemy had been defeated...."_

Your chest fills with pride over the strength and courage of the ones you considered to be your people, but the feeling is fleeting as Balin continues, his tone heavy with sadness.

_"......But there was no feast nor song that night for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived...."_

You flinch, the old dwarf's words bringing flashbacks of the scorched battlefield spreading like a sea of death as far as the eye could see from the Eastern gate of Moria. The smell of the charred and burning corpses, piled into heathen funeral pyres fills your nose along with the scent of blood and rotting orc flesh, making you gag. But most of all it was the feeling of hysterical panic you remembered most. The feeling that came with thinking Thorin was lost to you forever.

_"....And I thought to myself then... There is one, who I could follow. There is one I could call king."_

Balin's soft voice trails off as he finishes his tale and you open your eyes again to find yourself on your feet without knowing how you had come to be standing. Your cheeks wet, you look around at the others, finding them all likewise stood and staring at Thorin's back with expressions of awe and reverence.

He turns at last, looking more regal than you had ever seen him, but seeming somewhat uncomfortable by the show of respect he was now faced with. His eyes downcast in embarrassment he walks between those who had pledged themselves to him, and his status truly hits home with you for the first time. Finding so much truth in Balin's last words, you bow low to him as he approaches you, meaning it more than you had ever meant anything in your life.

He pauses before you, his surprise in your deferential display clear. He gently lifts your chin with a hooked finger, the ghost of a loving smile in his eyes and on his lips.

Bilbo frowns as he watches from his seat in the grass, his eyes flicking between Thorin and Balin curiously. "And the pale orc? What happened to him?"

Thorin releases you and continues his stroll back to his seat. "Slunk back into the hole whence he came... That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Less certain of the great orc's demise than Thorin, your eyes move to Gandalf, not missing the private look he shared with Balin. He catches you staring at him and hastily turns away - and in that moment your doubt vanished entirely. You knew.


	11. Into The Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger is real. Fear is a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I know I keep repeating myself, but thank you once again for the lovely comments on the last chapter - I continue to be overwhelmed. <3 Update is quick this time as I have a few days off work. Hopefully will have the Rivendell chapter up pretty quickly too. I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! Happy reading! :)

_Rain._

A ceaseless, never ending blanket of moisture-laden cloud that had started to deposit its heavy burden upon the company since the second morning out of Bree.

Now it had followed you steadily east for days as you crossed over into the Lone Lands, making the already unkempt and less travelled roads in these parts even more treacherous - with flash floods reducing parts of the ancient track into small rivers and muddy landslides.

Navigating these obstacles was hard work for the ponies and because of this, the going had been slow and left you unable to do anything other than cover a few short miles in one day - something that had quickly taken its toll on your companions and their morale as a whole.

Gone was the happy chatter and camaraderie that had been present at the very start, and in its place foul moods and silence reigned. Even Dori, as polite and well mannered as he usually was, seemed close to snapping. He eventually shouts up to the wizard, an irritable frown creasing his otherwise pleasant face. "Here, Mister Gandalf!? Can't you do something about this deluge!?"

"It is _raining_ , Master Dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! .. If you want to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard!"

You smile to yourself, amused at least by the old man's sarcasm if nothing else. Behind you, Bilbo leans forward in his saddle curiously, his mousey hair sodden and plastered to his skull. " _Are_ there any?"

"What?"

"Other wizards."

Gandalf tilts his head in response, "There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman.  The White.... Then there are the two Blue wizards...." He pauses with a thoughtful frown, ".... You know, I've quite forgotten their names?"

The halfling gapes in disbelief, hardly daring to enquire further, "And who is the fifth?"

Gandalf smiles happily, seeming glad that he could at least remember this one. "Well, that would be Radagast. The Brown."

Bilbo processes this new information with interest, "Is _he_ a great wizard? Or is he... _more like you_?"

You choke on a snort and press your face into Nithoel's saturated mane to muffle the sound of your laughter. Beside you, Thorin disguises his own mirth with a hacking cough whilst glaring hard in your direction to silence you and failing spectacularly.

Gandalf's expression of indignation does nothing to dampen your amusement either as he turns to look back at the innocent hobbit - pretending not to notice the grins of the others as he responds, "I think he's a _very_ great wizard - in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others, and he keeps a watchful eye on the vast forest lands to the east. A good thing too, for always evil will look to gain a foothold in the world."

He trails off, leaving Bilbo to ponder his words and the others soon lose interest, returning to their previous misery and silence while the rain continues to pour.

If any of you had thought that these bleak conditions couldn't ever possibly worsen, then you were all about to be in for a shock.

Far too soon, you left the partial shelter of the sparsely wooded countryside and journeyed out into the very heart of the Lone Lands - a vast and endless plain that gave you no protection at all from the storm that continued to rage overhead, nor the bitter wind that rose up around you and tugged at your cloaks with icy fingers. A rumbling, clap of thunder echoes across the land, heralding even heavier rain and further despair.

Riding at the front of the column beside Thorin, you sink deeper into your cloak and only look up from Nithoel's drenched, silvery back when the hobbit's small voice commands your attention once more. "What is _that_?"

You wipe the droplets of water from your face and follow his gaze, peering without much interest at the barren landscape around you.

A vast, hilly moorland of browning heather stretched uninterrupted before you as far as the eye could see, beautiful in its own desolate way, but only further adding to the melancholy the incessant rain had brought. In its midst sat the first of many ancient hills - and certainly the largest - standing a thousand feet high and seeming to watch over you as you journeyed towards it.

A crown of archaic stones stood about its head like long forgotten sentinels, giving the hill an eerie, haunted appearance. You raise a brow in surprise, not realising you had yet come so far, "That is Amon Sûl.... Or...." You answer the halfling's questioning frown with a small smile that now felt foreign on your face, "... you may know it by its name in the common tongue? Weathertop?"

Bilbo's partial confusion was still clear in his expression and you continue, resigned to explaining. "When Elendil of Númenor came to Middle Earth and founded our ancient kingdoms, he recognised the strategic benefits of this hill and ordered a watchtower to be built upon its summit. There was given to it the largest and strongest of the Palantíri in the northern kingdom of Arnor.."

" _Palantíri_?"

The hobbit's curiosity piqued even further, he nudges his pony closer alongside you as you sigh and settle into your saddle to give him a brief history, whilst all the while being only too aware of Thorin now listening with interest on your other side. "The Palantíri were large, spherical stones created by the elves of the Ñoldor long ago in the Undying Lands. They granted their users power to see many things far off and to communicate with the masters of the other stones over great distances. The Ñoldor gifted many such stones to the Númenóreans, who treasured and guarded them as heirlooms of their houses. In the destruction of Númenor, Elendil and his sons managed to rescue only seven of these stones and carried them here to Middle Earth, where they placed them in the far corners of the land so as to be able to communicate with one another from afar. The largest in the north resided here."

"Where is it now, this stone?" Thorin's voice turns your attention back to him, his blue eyes shining with curiosity from beneath the shadows of his hood.

You shrug, "Lost. Many battles were fought over this land. The great kingdom of Arnor became sundered and divided into three as each sought to take control of the stone. These smaller kingdoms of Arthedain, Cardolan and Rhudaur all meet here at this one point and long the border disputes reigned.

In the end however, Arthedain and Cardolan joined forces in defence against Rhudaur, now allied with and bolstered by the Witch-King of Angmar and his forces of evil. Many years they held his power at bay, but at last King Arveleg was slain defending the tower, and Angmar's forces destroyed the fortress - but not before the Dúnedain had rescued the stone. From there, they carried the Palantír north to our principal city of Fornost where it resided until it was lost in the northern seas along with the stone of Annúminas when the last king of Arnor, Arvedui fled a fresh assault from Angmar."

You sigh softly, looking up at the bleak remains of the watchtower with sadness. "Since then, my kin have crumbled as swiftly and surely as these ruins, and who soon will remember their glory, or the ancient splendour of our kingdoms? That was lost with the seven stones, I fear."

Thorin reaches out for your fingers and grasps them tightly, his eyes softening with an understanding and empathy that could only come from a people who had suffered a similar fate - as the dwarves had.

Bilbo turns his eyes away from this show of quiet affection and comfort, feeling as though he was intruding on something private. Instead, his eyes, like those of most of the company, return to the ancient ruins of Amon Súl and he shivers, suddenly feeling very small indeed.

* * * * * *

The days passed by slowly but without any incident as you continued your long trek down the eastern road.

To while away the long hours with nothing but the rain and the saddle to amuse yourself with, you decided to beg the company of Balin for a while - remembering fondly the silver haired dwarf's vast store of knowledge and his penchant for a decent story.

Your unexpected companionship pleased the old dwarf greatly and he seemed most content to indulge you, just as you had hoped he would.

You listened with a rapt attention reminiscent of your childhood as Balin passed the time telling you many fantastical tales that reminded you strongly of lush grasslands and of happier times spent waiting impatiently for Thorin to return from the villages of Rohan.

In exchange, you told him many tales of your own and described for him the many adventures you'd had in your youth and since. You gave him every small detail of your upbringing as he requested and smiled contently when he gasped and laughed in all the right places - swearing by Mahal that one day he would have to write a full account of your story and add it to the library of Erebor for all to enjoy.

Balin wasn't the only dwarf who seemed interested in your tale, and you had soon found yourself surrounded by the others as they had all listened in unashamedly. You enjoyed their questions and conversation as well as the opportunity to get to know them all a little better and your spirits had eventually lifted - the time passing swifter for all.

In your absence, Gandalf had now taken to riding at Thorin's side instead. A move, you guessed, that could only lead to trouble. Sure enough, your canny insight and intuition was to be proved correct when a small argument soon erupted between the two. You fall silent and strain to catch their hushed and angry words, getting the gist from the little that you _did_ hear, that the wizard had finally broached the subject of Rivendell.

You didn't need Thorin's angry expression, nor the old man's look of exasperation to know how the conversation had turned out and you groan inwardly, wishing Gandalf had not mentioned it to him at all - knowing Thorin's already sombre mood would now probably deteriorate faster than a week old corpse. In fact, you mused, a week old corpse would definitely be far more cheery.

* * * * * *

Eventually leaving the weather hills and their fallen monuments behind, you journeyed at long last beyond the emptiness of the heathery wasteland. Now trees began to appear again, sparse at first but then growing more numerous as the land became much more hospitable. Soon it wasn't uncommon to pass through a small wood or see the remains of a crumbled, ramshackle farmhouse sat in the midst of what you assumed had once been well tended fields filled with ripe crops.

It was in these frequent ruins that the company now often made camp. The weather, as much improved and now far drier than it had been, was still temperamental - and more than once you had gone to sleep under the stars only to be rudely woken by fat droplets of cold rain falling on your face. However, Thorin would firmly ignore the advice of Gandalf and refused outright to take shelter in the many ancient castles that also dotted the landscape of Rhudaur, preferring to endure the wet than the foul feel of such places.

Even though the wizard had looked for your support in these instances, you couldn't help but quietly agree with Thorin. These ruins had an watchful air and evilness about them that chilled you far more than the rain could ever hope to.

As it was, you would not have to worry about that on this particular night, as once more you had managed to stumble upon the crumbling remains of a large homestead set well back from the road - its weather-bleached stones and oak rafters held together long after their time by a thick carpet of ivy. You smile to yourself as you dismount Nithoel, glad at the thought of spending the night cozy, dry and warm beside a roaring fire with a hot meal inside of you - but glad too because you knew Thorin's mood would also lift.

Ever since his argument with the wizard, his state of mind had worsened as expected and now he hardly spoke and almost never smiled, preferring to ride at the head of the column in silence, alert for dangers and undistracted from his thoughts of Erebor. But all that seemed to change when the company found a good place to camp. There he was able to rest and lower his guard a little, letting the warmth, food and good conversation raise his spirits until he was almost cheerful. On those nights you were thankful and allowed your worry over him to escape you if just for a little while.

Ridding your horse of his burdens you set him loose to graze, watching him trot off happily with his new friends before turning to help unload the large cooking pot from the pack animal. Kili and Gloin soon returned with bundles of firewood and once they had erected the tripod for you over the merry flames, you begin to prepare the evening meal with the dedicated help of Bombur.

The small camp was soon filled with the appetising smells of frying meat and onions and your stomach grumbles appreciatively as you top up the hefty pot with water from your skin. Adding the large chunks of potato and other root vegetables to the mix when Bombur hands them over, you leave the stew to simmer whilst searching through your bags for some herbs to give the broth some taste.

Impatient and hungry as ever, the dwarves were ready long before the stew and you had to keep shooing them away, finding their hovering both exasperating and distracting while you were trying to concentrate on getting the recipe just right.

Thorin sits in the corner with his back against the wall, his amusement at how easily you handled his men apparent in the small smirk that played about his lips. You wink at him and prod hopefully at a large chunk of potato - and finding it quite soft you call them all to eat at last. Handing Ori two wooden bowls filled to the brim for both Thorin and Gandalf you begin to fill every other bowl as it gets thrust eagerly under your nose. Ladling large portions enough to satisfy even a hungry dwarf, you sigh in relief when they were finally all served and you were free to take your own bowl and settle beside Thorin.

He smiles across at you as you seat yourself next to him and gestures with his spoon. "Another triumph, dear one."

You nod in gratitude for his words and fish a large chunk of tender meat on to your spoon and pop it into your mouth. Thorin had not spoken a lie, the broth was delicious, with just the right balance of flavours. Happy with your achievement, you begin to eat in earnest and make a mental note to thank Bombur and Bofur later for their patient tuition in the art of simple Dwarven cookery.

Not a murmur was to be heard as the dwarves dig in with gusto, all relishing this, their favourite time of day. You watch them eat from over the brim of your own bowl and smile contently, feeling a sudden rush of overwhelming affection for your new, albeit strange little family.

Once everyone had eaten their second helpings, or in Bombur's case, fourth helpings, and all bowls had been scraped clean, you help to clear away the supper things and then feeling restless, search for something to do.

Taking out your sword, you glance along its length, thinking to polish it but find it already gleaming. Staring at it glumly for a moment, you sigh and glance around at the others, finding them all now happily involved in their own pursuits - mainly a game that you didn't understand that involved dice and money, and apparently a lot of swearing.

Unstrapping and kicking off your boots instead, you groan in appreciation, curling your aching toes in the thick, springy moss and cool grass that carpeted the ground - and suddenly get struck by an idea. Ignoring Thorin's questioning expression as he breaks off his conversation with Gandalf to watch you, you remove your coat and unfasten the constricting, black leather jerkin you always wore, tossing it into the corner with the rest of your discarded gear.

Taking a deep breath, you sigh gratefully and picking up your sword again, moving a short distance away from the others to give yourself some space and peace.

Feeling free and unfettered in nothing but your loose shirt and legging pants, you hold your blade out before you and run your eyes along its keen edge, admiring the way the runes caught the light of the moon. Giving the sword an experimental swing, you let it roll in your palm to reacquaint yourself with the feel and weight of it, enjoying having the weapon back in your hand once more.

Conscious of Thorin's stern gaze now burning into your back, you try to block him out and close your eyes, letting the sound of teasing laughter and the spits and pops of the small campfire recede and eventually fade to silence as you search for your meditative place as the elves had always taught you.

Finally finding the tranquillity in your mind, you swing your sword in an arc over your own head and begin to move through the forms that Elladan and Elrohir had given you to maintain your level of skill.

At first, your aching muscles scream out in protest - days of seeing nothing but the saddle having taken their toll on your neglected body. Gritting your teeth, you push the pain aside, refusing to let your discomfort best you so easily.

Instead, you stubbornly continue to move through each form, your movement sluggish and clumsy to begin with, but after a short while gaining in swiftness and fluidity as your muscles stretch out and remember their elasticity.

Satisfied at this small achievement, you dream yourself up some imaginary foes to test yourself against, seeing clearly in your mind's eyes the small band of five orcs that now surrounded you. Grinning, you launch into battle without pause, parrying the attack of a leering orc as it jabs a pike low towards your left hip.  Twisting on the spot, your hair whirls around your shoulders and your sword gleams and flashes as your bring it down with force enough to cleave the orc's skull in two.

Your imagined enemy falls before you and you dance away, locking yourself in quick combat with a second, who's single, remaining yellow eye glitters evilly as it counters your first blow with a notched, razor sharp scimitar before it too falls under the undeniable swiftness of your blade - dark globs of black blood oozing from the center of its ribcage.

Eviscerating the third, you lean back on yourself, spine arching athletically until the ends of your hair drag in the dirt, narrowly avoiding a make-believe sword as it whistles lethally across your face. As graceful and lithe as a young doe, you pirouette, your sword following with such speed that your movement, to those now watching, became nothing but a shadowy blur. Emerging from the attack with your back to your enemy, you smile and listen with absolute surety to hear its head tumble from its miserable shoulders and land on the ground with a wet thud of finality.

A quiet laugh escapes your lips with the joy of battle and you switch hands to face the last of your imaginary foes, a particularly disfigured orc wielding dual blades. Pulling your large, silver hunting knife from your belt, you circle it, waiting for it to attack.

With a strangled cry the orc springs towards you and you imagine the sound of metal meeting metal ringing in your ears as your blades meet. You block a blow from the creature's second blade with your knife and twist away to create some distance. The orc jumps back into the attack far too quickly, the first of its blades low and swift. You jump over it with ease and knock the swiftly following second out of the way with the flat of your own sword, leaving you free to thrust the dagger of Thorin's grandfather through the wretched creature's throat. Its eyes open wide with shock and a wet gargle rises from its punctured throat as it falls back from your blade.

The battle won, you sigh happily and lower your guard. Remaining standing with your eyes closed, you let your heartbeat return to normal and the adrenaline that coursed through you from having your blade in your hand again, ease away your irritations.

A whisper of a quiet footstep sounds from somewhere behind you, disturbing your meditation, and your brow furrows into a confused frown, so oblivious to your surroundings and lost in your own moment that for a second you wonder if you had missed one of your own imaginary enemies. Twisting at a frightening speed, you bring your sword around and finally open your eyes when the blade meets solid metal with a very realistic shower of sparks.

Dwalin stands before you, his axe holding back your sword with ease and his face a mask of barely concealed delight.

You raise a brow and glance towards the others who were now all watching you with interest, their game long discarded in favour of better entertainment and teeth reflecting the firelight as they grin.

Thorin sits closest to you, his elbow resting on a raised knee as he smokes thoughtfully at his pipe, his eyes shining with fierce admiration.

"Let us see how you fare against something a little more real and _infinitely_ more dangerous."

Your attention turns back to the dwarf before you and a wicked grin ghosts your lips. "So eager for a rematch?"

Dwalin winks, his eyes twinkling. "Always."

Your grin widens. "My axe, please."

Dwalin nods and motions to Bofur, who scurries to do as requested and hands you your axe with a gleeful smile before retreating with a bow. You nod in thanks, readjusting your grip on the haft until the weight felt comfortable in your hand.

Finally taking a step back, you breathe deeply and search once again for your inner sanctuary, allowing the crisp air to give you clarity and heighten your senses.

Surrounding yourself with this calm, you focus your energy on both the axe and sword in your hands, making them at one with your body so they would become nothing more than extensions of your limbs.

Dwalin raises an impatient brow and you nod, taking a defensive stance to signify you were ready.

He begins to circle you, but determined to beat him this time, you refused to wait for him to make the first move, knowing full well he would expect that. Instead you launch straight into the attack, barely registering the surprise in Dwalin's eyes as he swiftly blocks your double blow.

You dance this way and that, testing the water, both trying to get the better of the other without much headway - but to you in your relaxed state, it now seemed that Dwalin moved far slower than you remembered, his attacks coming far more sluggish and sloppy than the first time you had fought him.

Then, you had been shackled with anger and had let your emotions rule your head and detract away from your concentration. Freed of that, you more than a match for him and before long you had covered him in welts and bruises, causing him to anger as you constantly exploit his weaknesses with a speed and agility that his strength and power could not hope to match.

But rather than be deterred by these small injuries, they only spurred him on to fight even more furiously and he relentlessly renews the attack, his frustration over his own stupid mistakes distracting him further and leaving him more likely to error.

Taking advantage of this, you double your efforts and pull out all your tricks, smelling first blood and knowing he was close to defeat.

Before he knows it, he finds himself on his knees, weaponless and the tip of sharp, ice-cold steel held firmly against his throat.

You stand over him, chest heaving with exertion and your eyes gleaming with the fire of battle. " _Submit_."

Rather than the sullen rage you had expected, Dwalin grins up at you and nods his assent, a gleam of fatherly pride just visible in his dark eyes.

You lower your sword and offer him a hand to help him to his feet. His grip closes tightly around your wrist as he stands, but instead of releasing you as you had expected, he pulls you closer, his voice gruff. "Now put the boots back on and try again."

Your satisfied expression falters and you shake your head, eyes wide at the thought of fighting him again. As well as you had fared against him this time, he had still been the most formidable opponent you had ever faced and your short sparring session had left you utterly exhausted. "Maybe tomorrow? I admit I am fatigued."

Dwalin shakes his head, no longer smiling as he lowers his voice so only you could hear. "Do you think the enemy would care about your fatigue? Do you think they would wait for you to take off or change your boots? Real war can last for days, and _then_ what princess? You must always be ready. Now put the boots on."

You glare back at him, every part of you screaming out to ignore his challenge. Instead you stake your sword in the soft ground and stalk back into the firelight to retrieve your boots, your stubborn temperament not allowing you to back down from this.

The company now watches in silence as you angrily thrust your legs back into the dwarven boots and buckle them tightly around your carves, all effected by the sudden change in atmosphere that made itself known through your bearing alone.

Thorin frowns up at you, confused by the small confrontation between you and his brother-in-arms. He opens his mouth to speak, but Gandalf holds up a hand to silence him as he thoughtfully watches you stomp back out towards your opponent.

Dwalin wordlessly hands you back your weapons as you face up to him once more. He readies his own axes and you look up into his eyes with a last fleeting thought. - _This was really going to hurt._

* * * * * *

"Move your feet!"

You clench your jaw, a flash of pain appearing in your eyes as the butt of Dwalin's axe makes easy  
contact with your already bruised ribs.

Ever since your victory against him four nights past, Dwalin had insisted that you spar with him every evening before supper, not caring for your despairing protests in the least.

You had been made to pay tenfold for that first battle, and now your aching body was covered in multiple bruises of every colour and painful looking welts where you had failed to block more than one of his fierce blows in time.

Fettered and slowed down by the boots that Thorin had made for you, you had been defeated easily every single time you had worn them - the heavy footwear requiring a different type of movement that you had not yet remastered, due to the fact you had spent most of your time in the saddle since he had gifted them to you.

Still, Dwalin would always expect you to wear them every time he faced you, and you had never once asked for anything different - determined as you were to not show any signs of weakness in front of either him or the others.

The training sessions became longer and more gruelling as the nights went on, and you thought that you had never felt so exhausted or drained in all your life - even your tuition with the elves had not seemed as extensive, but still you refused to give in or be cowed.

No, even though you sometimes silently questioned why Dwalin had to be so brutal towards you, you would not give him any more reason to be disappointed. You would earn his respect through sheer determination and guts if nothing else.

With that thought, your legs disappear from under you and all the air leaves your lungs as you collide heavily with solid ground with a groan. You lay gasping for air, not even having the energy left to get back to your feet as you squint up at the angry looking dwarf standing over you.

"At least put _some_ effort into it."

You frown at him in annoyance, rubbing your stomach in an attempt to draw breath. You hurt everywhere. "You think I am _enjoying_ this? That I'm doing it for the _fun_?"

Dwalin's face splits into a toothy grin and he grasps you under the arm to pull you to your feet. "You mean you're _not_ having fun?"

You sway unsteadily on the spot, dizzy and disorientated. "Would you find having your backside constantly handed to you fun?"

Dwalin chuckles, supporting you until you regain your balance. "No. That's why I'm trying to help you. So you'll never have it handed to you again... Now, go through the forms I showed you once more."

You groan and retrieve you sword, taking your position beside him as he begins to relentlessly take you through the movements and stretches he had taught you.

Pushing yourself through the barrier of pain and exhaustion you do everything he asks of you without complaint - even holding your tongue when he corrects you, his hands grasping firmly at your waist as he pushes your core weight down and guides you through the precise execution of a particular exercise.

You gaze passes over Thorin as you stretch out your cramping muscles, finding his eyes fixed firmly on you as always as he sits in tense silence beside the fire, his pensive brow creased with worry.

His eyes soften when your gaze meets his and you find a new determination and a hidden store of strength that welled up inside you and that could only be born of his unconditional love for you.

He had been steadfastly against your sparring sessions with his head of guard since day one, when after donning your dwarven boots, Dwalin had proceeded to dislocate two of your fingers within the first five minutes. His fury with the other dwarf had been a sight to behold, but instead of his concern comforting you as it usually would, his need to protect you had only made you feel weaker.

To the surprise of both, it had been you that had put an end to Thorin's angry protests when you had held up a hand to silence him.

Indifferently pulling the disjointed bones back into place you had returned to the attack without further pause, making Thorin's arguments completely invalid.

The gleam of admiration had appeared in Dwalin's eyes and you found that it was that one thing above all else that motivated you - and you were determined to keep that look in his battle hardened gaze forever.

Still, Thorin's rage had not been completely subdued by your grim determination to push yourself beyond your limits. That night he'd had Oin strap up your injured hand and once he thought you were sleeping soundly in your bedroll, he'd rounded furiously on his childhood friend - their whispered row plenty loud enough for you to be able to catch every single word.

_"What on earth do you think you're doing?"_

_"What does it look like? I'm helping her stay alive, that's what."_

_"And how will butchering her slowly help her stay alive?"_

_"I'm not butchering her. But if we should run into a decent fight on this journey, she's vulnerable unless she happens to be in bare feet and you know it. She's damn good, Thorin, but she can still be better. And if she's determined to wear our boots, then she'd better learn to move in them or she'll soon find herself in trouble."_

Thorin's turmoil had been conspicuous by his silence and Dwalin had continued, his voice cooling of temper. _"Look, brother. I vowed to always watch your back. And since she is who you want, that now extends to her as well. Do you think I could ever live with myself or bear your grief if anything happened to her? Can you always be there to protect her? She's got the potential to be unstoppable, Thorin.... And I'm going to bring that out of her, with or without your approval."_

Thorin's voice had come so soft and sad that it had hurt your heart to hear it. _"She shouldn't have to fight, Dwalin."_

_"None of us should have to fight brother. But we can not all be so lucky. She's a born warrior. And if you had ever desired anything else, you would not have chosen her for a mate."_

Their argument had ended with Dwalin's last words and since then, Thorin had never once openly voiced his dislike for your nightly duels. After first trying to dissuade you from wearing your new choice of footwear any longer out of his own guilt for making them for you in the first place and being responsible for your new found vulnerability - a request you flat out refused through stubbornness alone - he instead watched broodingly from the sidelines whilst having Oin concoct all manner of poultices for your ever increasing number of injuries.

Dwalin's words had more than a marked impact upon you though, and now you went into each sparring session with less complaint and far more vigour - determined to prove Dwalin right, ease Thorin's worry and make them both proud.

As the days passed, it was not only the psychological change in you that became visible, but the physical change was soon apparent too. Your body became hardened for battle, your muscles leaner and more toned. Your arms and legs became firmer and well defined as the core strength and power grew within you. Now you tired less easily, and the bruises and welts became fewer as you regained the fluidity and speed to which you were accustomed.

Every day you tested Dwalin infinitely more and it became increasingly difficult for him to best you. Now it wasn't so uncommon for him to also receive a few blows in your sessions and you and he would sit impatiently side by side and pay the cost as Oin tended to the both of you.

But it wasn't until long after you had crossed the Last Bridge over the Hoarwell and entered into the Trollshaws that you finally defeated him outright.

His axe flies from his hand and he finds himself unable to defend himself against the speed with which you had attacked, nor the power that now came with it. His legs are taken from under him before he has time to blink and he goes down with all the weight and grace of a large Ox.

His lip swollen and bloody, he looks along the length of the blade pressed against against his throat and grins when he meets your eyes.

" _Submit_."

He nods once, and you remove the blade and sheathe it. Dwalin shifts under you, trying to catch his breath and you remove the weight of your knees from his chest to aid him.

Ignoring the clapping and loud cheering of the others from around the campfire, you offer him your arm to pull him up, but he grabs it and draws you closer instead. "Now I'll be able to sleep at night."

You raise a questioning brow and he wipes the blood from his cut lip before continuing. "It will give me great peace of mind knowing he always has you to watch over his reckless behind if I should ever fail."

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest and your eyes well in realisation. "So _that's_ why-"

Dwalin nods, his own emotions finally breaking through his fierce and uncaring exterior. Shocked by that more than anything, you stand and pull him to his feet, your muscles straining with his vast weight. You clasp his arm tightly, "I swear I will always watch over him. It's all I know. But I would say to you this... Don't fail, brother. His behind is now far too reckless for one of us alone to deal with. I _need_ you."

Dwalin chuckles, his appreciative grin returning to his face and banishing his worry. "And there's the truth if it. Very well, I will continue to watch over _his_ reckless behind while he's so happily distracted by _yours_."

You colour instantly at his implied meaning and stutter to find a reply. Dwalin laughs even harder, his admiration never as present as it was at this moment. "I have to admit, he chose well. You will make him a worthy mate."

You blink in surprise, taking his arm when he offers it to you and blushing even deeper at Dwalin's heartfelt admission, but all the while feeling a fierce pride in the fact you had not only secured his total respect, but also his complete acceptance.

Leading you back to camp to celebrate your victory with the others, Dwalin recovers his axes before delivering you into Thorin's care, the latter who accompanies you to a nearby stream to stand guard while you washed off the sweat and dirt of your contest.

As always he carefully removes his eyes from you as you begin to undress, his back turned resolutely and watching instead for any sign of danger.

Indifferent now to such things as shyness, you wonder at his continued displays of propriety. Your sparring sessions with Dwalin and the constant defeats at his hands had more than honed your skills, they had given you a new outlook on the insignificant matters that had worried you so much before. Now you were brimming with self confidence and a new sense of worth that had done away with most of your insecurity. You had been made vulnerable in front of the entire company and emerged through it mentally and physically stronger than ever before. Having Thorin's eyes on you now would be something you would welcome instead of shying away from it as you used.

You sigh wistfully as you step into the icy brook and begin to wash, your thoughts increasing your feelings of loneliness. You missed him and you missed his closeness. You hadn't been anything near intimate with him since weeks before in Bree, having always been under the watchful eyes of the rest of the company - leaving you with next to no privacy to enjoy such things. You knew it was to be expected and wasn't his fault, but it still pained you beyond belief.

Thorin's shows of affection were now restricted to gazing at you longingly when he thought no one else was looking, or in the gentle brush of his fingers on yours in the pretence of helping you remove the saddle from your horse - and for you, it was not nearly enough.

The only time he would ever break with his tradition was after you had awoken from one of your many night terrors. Then he would hold you close and rock you gently, no matter who was watching -  whispering soft words of comfort to chase away the ever more disturbing images that tormented you and disrupted your rest.

A part of you became almost thankful for the dreams just so you would be able to have that contact with him, and afterwards you would hate yourself for wishing for them.

Your gaze finds his back as you finishing bathing and washing out your dirty clothes and you study his tense shoulders forlornly. Stepping out of the frigid, shallow water, your hand pauses in reaching for your towel and instead you step over it and continue with silent footfalls up the gentle rise to stand behind him.

He flinches when your arms unexpectedly wrap around his waist and he tilts his head slightly to survey the sodden hair still plastered to your brow. "Askâd?"

"Hold me?"

He goes without protest as you turn him to face you, bringing the rest of you into his line of sight. His cheeks colour and he quickly averts his eyes when he finds you standing completely naked and unabashed before him. "What are you-!?"

You ignore his protests and lean into him, wrapping your arms tight around his waist and hugging him against you.

He stands rigid in your embrace, not knowing where to put his hands and eventually deciding that your shoulders would be safest as he pulls himself out of your grip.

He gazes at you as though you had gone mad and quickly removes his mantle, his eyes anywhere but on you as he wraps it firmly around you to cover you until you were at least decent. "Have you suddenly decided to take leave of your senses?"

You shake your head and gaze back at him with large eyes, shivering with the chill of the night air on your damp skin."I just wanted your love...."

His expression softens with your explanation and he finally returns his eyes to your face. "You _have_ my love, sweetheart. It is undying. There is no need to walk around the countryside stark naked and catch your death for it."

You raise a brow and stubbornly press yourself back into his arms. "Well, maybe it is your attention I wanted most, then."

Despite himself, he smiles, feeling more at ease with giving in to your request and wrapping his arms around you now that you were safely covered. "I can assure you that you most certainly got that too."

You bury your face into his throat and breathe in his musky scent, letting his arms soothe away the last of your aches and pains. "Can we stay here? Just for a little while?"

He nods, taking pity on you and pressing a soft kiss to your brow. "If you wish." His arms tighten around you as he sinks slowly to the soft ground and takes you with him.

Pulling you into his lap, he makes sure to keep you firmly covered as he draws you back against his chest. Sighing softly, you snuggle into him and listen to the deep thud of his heartbeat as he brushes the damp hair back from your face. "Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

You nod and look up into his eyes with a small smile. "I am now. Your embrace seems to do in a single minute what Oin's salves take days to achieve."

He laughs quietly, his large hand slipping underneath the fur of the mantle that covered you to rub and massage at your bare shoulder. "Still sore?"

You groan appreciatively and arch into the touch. "Like you would not believe. I have blisters on top of blisters and can not decide if my aching body hates Dwalin or my horse more."

His smile widens even though his eyes were sympathetic. "I would settle on Dwalin. At least your horse does not set out to purposely cause you any injury."

You return his smile in answer and extract a hand from beneath his mantle to reach up and caress his cheek. "How I miss you, Thorin. Being with you and yet unable to have any of the closeness that I am now so accustomed to has been excruciating to say the least."

His whole tough exterior fades away suddenly and he leans his head into your palm. "For me too. I have missed you even more so since you stopped riding with me. And although my pride in you outweighs any other feeling, I have still not even had the luxury of spending my evenings with you to make up for my loss, since you now seem to find getting yourself beaten and sweaty preferable to my company."

Your fingers pause in their gentle mapping of his face and you blink back at him in surprise, never thinking for one moment he had felt that way. "Forgive me.... I did not know. It seemed to me that you were indifferent to my companionship and would sooner be left alone with your own thoughts as is usually your way."

His other hand slips beneath the soft leather of his coat to join the first in massaging the back of your neck. "I am never indifferent to your company, Askâd. You presence alone brings great comfort to me, even though it may not always seem that way to you."

You shift in his arms and gaze at him thoughtfully for a long moment, until reaching a decision, you rise to your knees and straddle his lap to face him fully. Framing his face between gentle hands, you look down into the depths of his eyes. "Then let me rectify my mistake and make it up to you."

Without another word, you shrug the mantle from around your shoulders and let it fall away down your back as you lean in to touch your lips to his.

* * * * * *

Buckling your girth, you turn back for your saddle bags to find Gandalf already holding them out for you, with a look on his face that had you instantly wary.

He had been the only one left awake and on watch when Thorin and yourself had finally made it back to camp the previous night - the others having retired early in preparation for the long day ahead.

Faces flushed, you had both climbed into your bed rolls without a single word of explanation, ignoring the knowing expression of the wizard that generally embarrassed you and infuriated Thorin. But as you had closed your eyes, fingers firmly laced with larger ones beneath the cover of your blankets, it had been with the thought that the old man would find a way to corner you eventually.

Not entirely happy to be proved right, you take your bags from him with a nod of thanks and turn back to your horse.

Gandalf steps closer whilst you strap your belongings to your saddle. "Do you know where we are, dear one?"

"Yes."

He glances around to make sure no one was watching and leans in, lowering his voice. "We could enter the valley in a day. Two at the most. I think if ever there was a time to try and convince him, it would be _now_."

You glance over Nithoel's back, watching as Thorin rallies together his men and gets them organised and ready to leave camp. "Then perhaps you should mention it to him while he's in such a good mood."

The old man follows your gaze to study the stern dwarf's profile, finding no trace of the high spirits you had mentioned in his expression. He raises a brow at you and you snort, "Mithrandir, you too know well his manner and bearing. It hardly ever changes, no matter his frame of mind. However, trust me when I say that I can vouch personally for his current happiness - though that is no guarantee of him changing his stance as far as the valley is concerned."

The wizard stares at you with an unreadable expression, guessing, as always, more than you wanted him to. You colour under his gaze, unable to quite disguise your own feelings of contentment nor stop your thoughts from returning to the very private moment you had shared with Thorin the previous night.

Even though you had still not realised your deepest wish of actually joining with him, it had been the closest you had yet come.

You tremble, heart beginning to race and stutter beneath your breast as you remembered how passive he had become beneath your hands when you had eased him back into the soft grass - unable, it seemed, to resist this new dominance with which you now asserted yourself.

Seducing him had been far easier than you had expected, and in his apparent need he had also soon forgotten his protests in regard to your state of dress, or lack thereof. Your flesh burns in remembrance of the warm hands that had slowly caressed and explored every inch of your form - and of the reverent look in the clear, blue eyes gazing deep into yours as he had sought to uncover the secrets of your body and then exploit each and every one of those sensitive discoveries with his fingers and tongue.

His kiss had burned like white-hot fire, consuming you and leaving you breathless and unable to do anything other than writhe helplessly beneath all his glorious weight - his name spilling from your lips in a soft cry of pleasure, a sound that had made him lose the last of his control and join you in the bonds of ecstasy.

Your night of intimacy had more than made up for all the time since Bree that you had been kept apart, but you hadn't worked out yet whether or not the encounter had eased your frustration or made your desire for Thorin even more unbearable. You sigh softly, thinking probably the latter and come back to the present to find Gandalf still watching you. Rearranging your face quickly to mask your lust-fuelled thoughts, you nonchalantly spring up into the saddle and fervently hope your little sojourn into the realm of fantasy had gone unnoticed.

Cheeks still hot, you take up your place beside Thorin at the head of the column, his joy in regaining your company shown in his warm smile as together you lead the others back out on to the road.

That day was one of the nicest in memory for you. The rain had seemingly gone for good and the cloudless sky was as blue as Thorin's eyes, filled with birdsong and golden light. The warmth of the early summer sun soothed your body completely of any remaining aches and pains, and even being in the saddle didn't bother you as it usually would.

Hope and cheer returned to the company, and as you journeyed at a steady pace through the lush country the laughter rang out loud and often. Thorin's high spirits also persevered and in his happiness to have you riding at his side once more, he pushed out all the stops to make his company and conversation more enjoyable for you and indulged you with many stories of his own, fantastical even enough to rival those of Balin.

All day you talked together about anything and everything, with you listening to all he had to say with fascinated attention - especially when the topic in discussion returned to tales of his childhood. Your heart swelled to bursting when he described for you in detail the fireflies that had clung to the dark rock of Erebor and how he had thought in his infancy that they had been the stars. You laughed until it hurt as he told you of all the practical jokes he and Dwalin would play on Frerin that would make his younger brother cry and his mother scold him for days.

The more you learned about him, the stronger your conviction was that he was where you were meant to be. You fell in love with him all over again and had never once felt closer to him or understood him more than you did then - a joyous change for both you thought, after the misery of the past weeks.

When he finally called to make camp, far earlier than he usually would, he seemed happier than you had ever known him to be - until Gandalf sought to ruin it for him with further talk of elves.

Admittedly, the wizard had left you alone with your new found joy all day, for which you were thankful. But now he apparently deemed the time was ripe for another attempt at convincing Thorin to take another road.

The old man gazes around the ramshackle remains of yet another farmhouse with distaste, "I think it would be wise to move on."

Thorin scales the small rise to the house with a frown and Gandalf presses his case, "We could make for the hidden valley."

Thorin's expression instantly darkens and his retort comes heavy with annoyance. "I have told you already, I will _not_ go near that place."

Your heart sinks in your chest and you move closer to stand by Dwalin, straining to listen to their conversation. The wizard's mutual frustration was clear. "Why not? We could get food, rest....advice."

"I do not _need_ their advice."

Gandalf leans heavily on his staff, "We have a map that we can not read. Lord Elrond could help us!"

" _Help!?_ " Thorin squares himself up, his eyes glowering with temper. "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The elves looked on and did _nothing_." He paces towards the wizard and seems to grow in stature with every step he takes. "You ask me to seek out the help of the very ones who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father?"

Gandalf sighs, exasperated and angered by Thorin's unwillingness to see reason. "You are _neither_ of those. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past!"

Thorin's hot temper finally gets the better of him and he snaps, "I did not know they were yours to keep!"

The wizard stares at him as though the dwarf had slapped him. He shakes his head in disgust and turns on his heel - dirty, grey robes flapping around his ankles as he stalks back towards you.

"Gandalf? Where are you going?" The hobbit's voice was small and fearful as the wizard brushes past him.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who has got any sense!"

"And who's that?"

" _Myself_ , Master Baggins!"

Bilbo quails as the wizard's voice comes with all the fury of a gale and he breaks through your midst muttering darkly about having had enough of dwarves for one day.

"Is he coming back?" Bilbo rounds on a very startled looking Balin to seek his answer, but your attention was now firmly back on the one you loved.

Thorin paces angrily amidst the ruins, barking a short order to Bombur to get started with the meal. You approach him hesitantly with all the caution you would have if you were attempting to poke a sleeping bear. He rounds on you when he hears your footsteps and raises a finger to dissuade you from uttering a single word. "Don't, Askâd. I know what you would say, and it will not change my mind."

"Do you? Well, regardless, I will still say it." You reach out to grasp his shoulders, preventing him from pacing any longer and forcing him to look at you. "Thorin, as the one who loves you, it is my duty to not remain in silence when you are making yourself look either foolish or unreasonable. And right now you are doing both."

You ignore the flash of anger in his eyes and continue recklessly. "You are letting your hatred rule your head and detract away from your purpose. The priority is Erebor, is it not? And the map is the key to fulfilling that ambition. Without Lord Elrond's help in uncovering its secrets, this quest that means so much to you and your people will surely fail."

When he remains in stern silence, you press a soft kiss to his cheek and release him with a sigh, gazing sadly into his eyes. "I love you."

Having not expected the last part, he stares after you as you turn your back on him and descend down the rise to help with the evening meal, leaving him torn between feelings of shame in himself and betrayal over your lack of support and understanding.

He brooded for the rest of the day, refusing to speak or even look at anyone and you despaired that your perfect day had to end this way. Still, you refused to be affected by his stubborn attitude and ignored him as firmly as he ignored you, something made much easier when spent in the ever cheerful company of Bofur.

It wasn't until later that evening, when the meal was finally ready, that you even acknowledged Thorin again. Taking the two bowls that Bofur had served you, you balance them carefully and walk over to where he sat alone, smoking his pipe. You sit down beside him and hand him his supper in silence, too hungry to try and make polite conversation now.

He watches you eat for a little while before placing down his pipe with a sigh and picking up his own spoon. "Do not think I said the things I did to spite you. I know what that place means to you."

You shrug indifferently, "Do not think I gave you the counsel I did out of bias. It was not for my sake or the wizard's that I urged you to reconsider, but for your own."

He opens his mouth to reply but was suddenly interrupted by a shout coming from the deep bush that surrounded your small camp. "Uncle!!"

You frown in confusion and turn to watch as Fili bursts out from the undergrowth, his braids askew and panting heavily. Thorin groans, "What now?"

Fili charges to a stop before you, breathless and struggling to speak as he points back towards the forest. "Uncle, ponies... Bilbo.... Trolls!"

" _Trolls_?"

Fili nods quickly, "Trolls.... Have the hobbit. _Kili_..."

Without waiting for another word, Thorin rises and withdraws his sword, only half dressed as he charges off in the direction of the trees with the rest of the company in close pursuit.

You look to Fili with wide eyes before sprinting after him and withdrawing your own blade, the golden-haired dwarf beside you doing likewise.

You caught up with Thorin just as the golden light of a large campfire became visible through the forest. Bursting through a thicket of small bushes, you stumble out into a small clearing and everything turns to slow motion. The hobbit goes flying through the air to be caught by Kili who stumbles backwards under the halfling's weight.

Three of the largest mountain trolls you had ever seen suddenly fill your vision before everything turns to chaos and confusion.

You jab at the toes of a huge foot when it threatens to trample you and jump with earnest into the fray. The shouts of the others fill your ears as they run this way and that, battling each of the monsters in small groups and trying to avoid being crushed or caught. Thrusting your sword toward the nearest, you slice the wart-covered grey flesh of a flabby stomach and the troll howls in pain as you quickly duck under its legs to avoid the large fist that gropes through the air to snatch at you. The dull creature turns on the spot in confusion as you disappear from its view, earning one of Dwalin's axes to the kneecap for its trouble.

Searching for your next mark, Ori runs past you in defence of his brother, caught in the iron grip of one of the others. The strings of his slingshot twang and a high pitched squeal signifies the rock had found its mark. You watch as Nori falls safely to the ground, but then groan when you realise that your troll had managed to recover himself and get a hold on Ori while he been standing stationary and otherwise distracted.

Dwalin runs into your line of sight and drops to his knees, just in time for Thorin to take a majestic flying leap from his back and slash through the arm that held the young dwarf, causing the troll to release the lad with a roar. Thorin lands gracefully and turns back into the attack, facing down the largest of the three with Dori who sends it to its knees in an agony which Dwalin only doubles when he knocks half of the troll's teeth out with a hefty swing of his axe.

Dodging the hobbit as he charges past you in the direction of the ponies, you rush to their aid, sliding under the troll's raised foot as it gets unsteadily to its feet and driving your blade deep into its cracked and dirty heel. You roll away as it bellows and dances on the spot, following your attack up with a jab to its thigh.

The troll angrily reaches out to grab you but then Thorin was there again, his dwarven sword Deathless gleaming in his hand as he impales it through a thick wrist. But his needless defence of you had led _him_ into a vulnerable position and you quickly look around for Dwalin as the hulking creature now bears down on Thorin instead.

Spotting him fighting now beside Bofur, the latter who brings his mace down with such force on to a sickly grey foot that you could feel the impact of metal on crushed bone vibrate through the earth, you shout him in panic.

"Dwalin!!"

He looks around, seeing Thorin now backed into a tight corner and fighting furiously. Rushing towards you, he holds out his hand and you meet him at full speed, grasping his forearm in a grip of steel as he spins you around and takes your feet from under you. His muscles bulge under the strain of your weight as he spins you twice more and then releases you up into the air.

You stomach turns in on itself and the world falls away as you continue to climb into nothingness. Below you Dwalin watches with fierce pride as you twist into space and arch your sword, the keen edge cutting through the ear and bull neck of the troll like a knife cuts through butter. The thing howls, grasping at thin air as you begin to descend and you hurry to position yourself to land before making contact with solid ground again.

Your feet collide heavily into the dirt and you huff, winded, saved from total collapse at the last moment by Thorin's strong arms. The others quickly regroup, surrounding you, and you turn back, horrified to suddenly find the halfling in the inescapable grasp of all three trolls.

"Bilbo! "

Kili rushes forward, but Thorin stops him dead with an arm across the chest. "Stop!"

The trolls leer down at you with smug expressions, "Lay down your arms, or we'll whip his off!"

You look from the hobbit's pale, petrified face to Thorin, who pauses for only a moment before angrily staking his sword into the ground in resignation. The others gaze at him in disbelief before following suit and throwing their various weapons to the floor.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself turned upside down and lifted into the air by your feet along with Thorin, and you lash out, struggling in vain to loosen yourself from the firm grip that bound your legs. "'ere, Bert? This one ain't a dwarf either!"

The gigantic upside down face of a troll comes into view as it peers at you intently. "You're right, Bill..... Seems it's human. Female too I reckon, judging by the looks of it."

You thrash even harder, taking a fierce swing at one of the trolls eyes. The one holding you laughs and gives you a shake. "Feisty an' all. Can we keep it for dessert? Always found man-flesh so much sweeter than dwarf."

The troll's face disappears from view, "Aye. Put it in a sack and throw it over there, Bill. I'll think of summin' real special to do with it later."

In no time at all, you found yourself bundled unceremoniously into the aforementioned sack and bound tightly to prevent any thought of escape. Deciding they had too many dwarves to cook at once, you were soon joined by Balin, Bilbo, Fili, Gloin, Bombur, Oin, Kili and to your immense relief, Thorin - all trussed up likewise and dumped into the corner under the watchful eye of the one apparently called Tom. 

You struggle and squirm under the weight of both Gloin and Kili, trying to free yourself enough to breathe whilst the trolls were distracted with tying up the rest of your party and fixing them to a large wooden beam lying close by. Finally managing to draw breath, your head falls back into Thorin's lap where you lay gasping for a moment to calm yourself. Once you had pushed down your feelings of panic you begin focusing your energy on your bonds and the thick rope that cut into the flesh of your wrists, trying without much luck to loosen them.

A series of shouts and exclamations cut through the night as the hardwood beam is hauled up from the ground with the dwarves attached and placed over the fire like a huge spit. Thorin struggles violently beneath you, tearing at his own bonds with his teeth in an effort to free himself and help his men. You urgently renew your own battle with the rope around your wrists as the trolls start to discuss the best way of cooking the dwarves, and wonder not for the first time where Gandalf could have got to and why he wasn't here when you needed him.

The panic rises anew and starts to claw at your stomach as you squirm hopelessly, having never thought your life would end this way. The indignity alone of being caught up in a sack was enough to bring tears to your eyes and you wonder fleetingly if you would taste nice - wallowing in this vein of self-pity until you were suddenly distracted from your morbid thoughts by Bilbo, who struggles to his feet, "Wait! You are making a _terrible_ mistake!"

The trolls all turn in surprise to look at the halfling and Dori shouts out from the spit, sounding nauseous. "You can't reason with them! They're halfwits!"

Bofur raises a brow, still managing to look and sound quite cheerful despite his current predicament. "Halfwits!? What does that make _us_!?"

"I meant with the seasoning!"

The dwarves fall silent with disbelief and the troll called Bert steps forward with a curious frown. "What about the seasoning?"

Bilbo draws himself up, his face calm and matter-of-fact. "Well, have you _smelt_ them? You're going to need something much stronger than _sage_ before you plate this lot up."

If you hadn't been so scared in that moment, you would have laughed. As it was, the dwarves didn't find any humour in Bilbo's words whatsoever. The halfling's statement had seemed to infuriate them more than anything else, and beneath you, Thorin thrashes furiously. "Traitor!"

The trolls however, paid them no heed. Their attention was fixed firmly on Bilbo now, especially the cook of the trio, Bert. He calls for quiet, "Shut up! Let the fleurdaburburhobbit talk."

Bilbo nods his thanks, "The secret to cooking dwarf is to..."

"Yes?"

"....is to.."

Bert frowns again, leaning closer. "Well, _go on_ then! Tell us the secret!"

Bilbo cringes a little, desperately searching for an answer and you all pause in your struggles to hang on his every word. "I'm trying! The secret to cooking dwarf is to.... _skin them first_!"

The small glade erupts with sounds of protest, and some of the retorts aimed Bilbo's way were more than colourful. The hobbit sighs exasperated but before he could speak further, Tom's warty hand hovers over your pile of sacks and plucks one from your midst. "Nothing wrong with a bit o' raw dwarf. Nice and crunchy." He holds a squirming Bombur over his open mouth, but thinking quick on his feet yet again, Bilbo screams for him to stop. "Not that one! He's infected!"

The trolls all turn to him as one, their faces aghast, " _You what_?"

Bilbo nods earnestly, "Yes. He's got worms..in his.... _tubes_."

Tom throws Bombur on top of Kili with a squeal of disgust, leaving you once again winded and struggling to breathe under the vast weight crushing your chest.

"...In fact, they all have! They're infested with parasites. It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

You glance towards the halfling, stood so calmly before three huge mountains trolls and frown, wondering what on earth he was playing at. Oin, as deaf as ever, turns to Kili in confusion and shouts. "Did he say _parasites_?"

Kili nods, outraged as he screams back at Bilbo."Ye- We don't have parasites! _You_ have parasites!"

Bilbo rolls his eyes and you finally understand, and so did Thorin it seemed when he aims a sharp kick at both Oin and his youngest nephew and catches you too. He grimaces apologetically as you wince, but not before the other two had caught his meaning and quickly changed their tune. Oin turns back to Bert, "I've got parasites as big as my arm."

Kili nods again in agreement. "Mine are the biggest parasites! I've got _huge_ parasites!"

You snort as the clamour rises, each of the dwarves trying to outdo one another as they voice exactly how big their parasites are. Bill looks around him in confusion before turning back to Bilbo. "What would you have us do then? Let 'em all go?" He prods the hobbit in the shoulder. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to! This little ferret, he's taking us for fools!"

Bilbo's expression falls into one of outrage, " _Ferret!?_ "

"The dawn will take you all!!!"

The familiar, authoritative voice echoes around the glade and you look up to see Gandalf stood atop the large boulder at the edge of the clearing, silhouetted in pale, golden light.

The trolls squint up at him in confusion? "Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

Gandalf raises his staff and with a resounding boom of finality, brings the haft down hard against the tough granite. The rock splits with a deafening crack and falls away to reveal blinding rays of golden sunshine.

The trolls howl and shield their eyes, but to no avail. As soon as the warm light touches them, their bodies harden, grey skin turning paler as living flesh turns to cold stone. You watch the transformation with silent amazement, hardly able to keep up with speed in which it happened. Within just a few short seconds, where there had been living trolls, there now only remained three, hulking statues, every detail preserved perfectly until the ages returned them to the dust from which they had been born.

A moment of silence ensues where everyone continues to gape, unable to believe that it was over and that they were safe. Then laughter suddenly fills the air and you collapse back against Thorin's stomach and thank every god you could think of for the wizard and the halfling.

In short order, Gandalf had you all freed of your bonds and comfortably untrussed. Those that had been likewise in sacks hurried to release the others, still bound to their giant spit over the fire and clamouring loudly to be let down.

Thorin watches them go before turning to you and reaching out for your hands, turning them gently in his own as he surveys the injuries and burn marks on your wrists from where the rope had cut into your flesh as you had tried to free yourself. Once convinced they were nothing life threatening, he pulls you firmly into his arms and holds you tight. "Are you alright?"

You nod into his shoulder, returning his relieved embrace until he pulls back with a final squeeze and a thankful kiss to your brow. "I'm sorry for kicking you."

You nod, just relieved at being alive. "You're forgiven."

He smiles tenderly and releases you to help the others while he heads off in the direction of the wizard, now studying the stone giants with smug satisfaction.

Sighing softly, you take another moment to calm yourself a little before gathering together everyone's belongings and weapons with the welcome help of Bilbo, who seemed to be trying not to draw attention to himself all of a sudden. No doubt in remembrance of the colourful threats he had received moments earlier.

You smile at him warmly as you retrieve Dwalin's axes, "Thank you for what you did. It was not only very brave, but extremely clever too."

He colours and tentatively returns your smile. "I'm just glad everything turned out alright in the end."

You grasp his shoulder and give it a grateful squeeze, the moment only broken when Thorin shouts over to you, requesting you join him in search of the trolls cave.

It didn't take you long to find it.

You choke as the stench hits you, overpowering and threatening to make you gag. You cover your nose with your sleeve and stick close to Thorin as he and Gandalf lead the way deeper into the cavern.

Trying to ignore the snapping sound of soft bones being crushed beneath your boots, you peer around into the gloom, unable to see much of anything until Thorin holds his torch aloft.

The glint of gold, silver and precious gems flickers into view amidst piles of the assorted junk that had once belonged to unwary travellers before they had been caught and undoubtedly eaten.

Bofur nudges at a pile of coins with his foot, mesmerised "Seems a shame to just leave it lying around. Anyone could take it."

Gloin nods, as equally enamoured of the glittering spoils there for the taking. "Agreed. Nori?"

"Yeah?"

"Get a shovel."

You snort, finding their magpie-like tendencies as baffling as always, having never found much use for trinkets or jewels in the path your life had led you on. Admittedly, you owned a few pieces that were beyond priceless to you - the ring of Thorin tied securely and for all eternity at your throat, the ring of your father, kept safe in Rivendell and the broach and beads given to you by Asvi and Dis respectively that resided likewise - but these were only precious because of sentimental reasons and for what they represented, not because of any monetary value - and there could only ever be one piece that you could ever possibly want to add to that.

However, the only other dwarf that seemed to share any of your contempt for material riches was Dwalin, and you stand beside him now, unwilling to descend any further into the foul stench and mess of the troll hoard. He winks at you before returning his disinterested gaze to Thorin, who had placed his torch aside to examine two swords he had discovered amongst the chaos. "These blades were not made by any troll."

He hands one to the wizard, who takes it with a curious frown. "Nor were they made by any smith among men." He grasps the pommel and withdraws the blade from its cover. "These were forged in Gondolin, by the high elves of the first age!"

Thorin makes to return the sword to the pile with an expression of utter disgust but pauses when Gandalf rounds on him, his eyes fiercely twinkling. "You could wish for no finer blade!"

Sceptical, Thorin unsheathes the weapon and studies the workmanship with an expert eye, unable to deny the truth in the wizard's words. It was one of the most finely crafted swords he had ever seen. He brings the flickering light of the torch along the runes engraved into the flat of the blade and you grin at his sudden expression of admiration for the beauty of it.

Across from you, Gloin, Nori and Bofur had finished loading a wooden chest with as many treasures as they could fit into it and were now proceeding to bury it, still under the disapproving glare of Dwalin.

They look at him unabashed, "We're making a long term deposit."

Your grin widens and Dwalin shakes his head, turning his back on them as Thorin stalks back towards you with the elven sword still firmly in his grip and calls everyone to make ready.

You follow him back out into the bright sunshine and take a deep and grateful breath of fresh air, wondering silently if you would ever get the smell of troll from your skin and wishing you could have a hot bath to at least try.

The others were all waiting for you outside with the bags they had retrieved from last night's camp and sifting through the junk that littered the mouth of the troll cave. The only two missing were Ori and Bifur who, on Thorin's orders, had gone to round up the ponies and get them ready to depart.

You collect yours and Thorin's things from the pile and repack everything securely whilst he was busy admiring and polishing clean his new sword. You were just about to mention it to him, a million teasing comments on the tip of your tongue when something distracts your attention back in the forest.

Thorin follows your gaze as a flock of birds flee from their roosts in the trees with alarmed squawks and chatters. His stance becomes tense as he readies the weapon and calls out, "Something's coming!"

Gandalf comes hurrying towards you, now also able to hear the sounds of something travelling at great speed through the brush. "Stay together! Hurry now! Arm yourselves!"

" _What now_?" Your heart begins to pound again as you unsheathe your own blade and take a defensive stance before Thorin. A splitting crack of twigs and the trees tremble and shake as something comes bursting from the green as fast as lightning.

_"Thieves! Fire! Murder!"_

You jump back in shock and Thorin curses loudly from beside you. A dozen of the largest rabbits you had ever seen come to a sharp stop in your midst, all joined with tiny, leather halters. You rub your eyes, sure that you must be having some kind of hallucination as you follow the harnesses to see that they were connected to a small sleigh that was seemingly made up of twigs and branches manipulated into shape. Stood in it was an eccentric old man dressed head to toe in torn, dirty brown robes - with what could only be bird excrement just visible in the scraggly hair beneath his lop-sided hat. He gazes around at you all, panting heavily, with an expression of someone that did not even know where he was or what he was doing there in the first place.

A name springs into your mind before Gandalf had even said anything. Surely it could not be anyone else.

The grey wizard sheathes his new sword with a sigh of relief. " _Radagast_! It's Radagast the Brown."

Of course.

You glance to the others to find them still with weapons drawn, all wearing very similar expressions of disbelief to your own. Somewhere, your subconscious registers that the halfling now also had a small blade of his own.

"What on _earth_ are _you_ doing here?"

Radagast's attention returns to the grey wizard, "I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong."

Gandalf raises a brow, his eyes narrowing, " _Yes_?"

The brown wizard points a grubby little finger, and then pauses, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Oh..... Just, uhm... give me a minute!" He whimpers and clenches his fist in frustration when the words refuse to come, "Oh... I had a thought and now I've lost it! It was right _there_... On the tip of my tongue."

Gandalf rolls his eyes and gazes at the other wizard impatiently. Suddenly, Radagast pokes his tongue out, "Oh... It's _not_ a thought at all! It's a silly old stick insect."

Gandalf reaches out and pulls the tiny creature from his mouth and places it into the brown wizard's palm. Grabbing him by the shoulder, he leads his fellow compatriot a small distance away so they could talk privately, and you could only gape after them in complete and utter bewilderment.

Thorin turns to you and leans in to whisper into your ear, voicing your own thought exactly. "Are they _all_ that crazy?"

You shrug, lowering your own voice. "I can not say. Up until today, I had only ever met Gandalf - and seen the White one from a distance a long time ago when he visited the valley."

"What's with the colour schemes?"

You turn to Dwalin as he steps up behind you, "I haven't a clue. I assume it must be something to do with rank, or maybe perhaps ability or nature, but I can not say for sure."

Thorin frowns and returns his attention to his sword, finding it all beyond him to understand. You watch him roll the blade in his hand for a few moments with a raised brow and a smirk, "It suits you. And the irony of it amuses me greatly."

He scowls as he looks up at you, his reply somewhat sarcastic and short. "As long as you're happy."

You snort with mirth and sit down on the boulder next to him, waiting for the wizards to finish their meeting. One of Radagast's rabbits gets to its feet and begins to clean itself and you watch with delight, fascinated by the creature. Peering around for something to offer it, you spot a large dandelion flower growing from the base of the rock to your left. You pluck it and hold it out towards the animal, but Thorin reaches down to grab your arm back. "Askâd, don't be a fool. Those things are unnatural."

You roll your eyes and pull your arm from his grip to turn back toward the rabbit again. Holding out the flower, you lean towards it and it watches you suspiciously, rising up onto its hind legs. Now almost as tall as Thorin's lower thigh, it sniffs cautiously at the bloom in your hand before snatching it away from you in the blink of an eye. You laugh softly as the petals and stem all disappear into its tiny mouth, the furry little chin chewing furiously. It swallows and hops closer, eyeing your hands for more and you laugh again, giving it a gentle scratch and letting your fingers run through the silky hair on the back of its neck and then trail along its long ears.

An eerie howl cuts through the glen and the rabbit startles beneath your palm, thumping its back leg loudly in alarm. Bilbo eyes it nervously and looks up, "Was that a _wolf_? Are there wolves out there?"

Bofur shakes his head, unnerved. "Wolves? No. _That_ is not a wolf."

You rise and ready your sword again as a deep growl sounds on the rise above you. Your turn as one just in time to see the gigantic warg leap down towards you in one easy bound. Nori falls under its weight as it pounces at Thorin, who draws first blood with his elven blade. A second growl comes from behind him and Kili's bowstrings twang to send another tumbling towards you to be finished off by Dwalin's axes. Thorin too removes his sword from its chest in disgust. "Warg scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind!"

Bilbo almost chokes, " _Orc pack_!?"

Gandalf appears and faces up to Thorin, seeming suddenly angry. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

Thorin frowns, "No one."

The wizard's voice booms with his disbelieving rage, " _Who did you_ _tell_!!?"

Thorin could only stare, perplexed, but also growing angry in his own right. "No one, I swear! What in Durin's name is going on!?"

Gandalf frowns and turns away, "You are being hunted."

Your heart falls through to your stomach and you wonder if it was fate that you were not meant to survive this day. First trolls and now a warg pack. The gods really intended it.

"We have to get out of here." Dwalin's obvious statement was cut short when Bifur and Ori come charging back through the trees, breathless. "We can't! We have no ponies! They've bolted!"

Icy dread claws at your stomach and your eyes fill with tears as you think of Nithoel and the others - and unable to bear the thought of losing your faithful friend, you fervently pray that he would find a way to escape and make his way home.

"I'll draw them off."

Everyone turns to look at Radagast in silent amazement. Gandalf groans, having no patience to play his friend's games now. "These are Gundabad wargs. They will outrun you!"

Radagast raises a smug brow, gesturing to his sled, " _These_ are Rhosgobel rabbits! _I'd like to see them try_."

* * * * * *

You had never run so far for so long in all your life. It had felt like hours as you sprinted blindly across the uneven terrain, more conscious of the weight of your armour and bags than ever before.

Your lungs scream for respite as Gandalf calls for halt beside a large boulder and not a second too soon.

The warg pack bursts across your line of sight, in hot pursuit of the brown blur that took them on an unknowing wild goose chase that uncannily always seemed to lead back to you.

You try to get a view of their numbers over Thorin's shoulder, but before you had chance you were off again, stumbling blindly through the wide open tundra.

A howl sounds close by and you look back, subconsciously registering the landscape and the position of the mountain range on the horizon. Gandalf meets your eyes as you pause again behind another rock formation, and you could tell he had either calculated the same thing or this had been his plan all along. Thorin notices your shared look and scowls, "Where are you leading us?"

Gandalf deigns to answer and calls for you all to run again. Thorin's eyes find yours instead, but you couldn't find it in yourself to be sympathetic anymore when his life was at stake. Better elves than dead. Even though he may not agree.

You run after Gandalf, paying more attention to the landscape now, feeling how close you were in your blood. So distracted were you in your search that you didn't notice the others had paused again. Thorin grabs your arm and yanks you back against the rock and holds you there. You pant heavily and flinch when a soft growl comes from just above your head.

Thorin nods at Kili on his other side, who looses an arrow from its quiver and fits it to his bow. He whips around at Thorin's command and the arrow flies, sending a rogue warg and its rider tumbling with unnecessary and worrying noise into your midst.

The dwarves silence its loud screams quickly, but to no avail. You groan, unable to help cursing Thorin's ill judgement in that moment when a series of howls sound the air and alerted you to the fact that your ruse had been discovered at last.

Gandalf turns back to you with an expression of dread. "Move! _Run_!"

You grab Bilbo by the waistcoat and pull him along with you, finding a new burst of energy in your panic. The howls grow closer behind you and you despair, knowing you would never outrun wargs for long on foot.

"There they are!"

You bump into Thorin's back suddenly and look up to find two of the giant animals blocking your path. From behind you, Kili's voice calls out in dread, "There's more coming!"

You unsheathe your sword and push the hobbit behind you, finding nowhere left to run. Thorin shouts out for Kili to shoot them and the young dwarf doesn't wait to be told twice as he places an arrow right between the eyes of an orc rider.

You turn on the spot, trying to get an idea of how many there were, but it seemed as though the wargs were now pouring in from all sides, their numbers growing worryingly by the second. Fili comes charging into your sight with his sword drawn, "We're surrounded!"

You stand fast beside Thorin, ready to pay your debt as the others run into form a tight, defensive circle around you.

"Where's Gandalf?"

You look back with a frown, not knowing he was no longer with you until that moment. Dwalin brushes the question aside, "He's abandoned us!"

As unlikely as that seemed to you, you didn't have time to dwell on it. The wargs were closing in fast and Thorin readies his elven blade.  "Hold your ground!"

The wizard's head suddenly reappears from behind a rock as one of the wargs bursts free of the rest. "This way, you fools!"

Thorin spins around in surprise and calls for his company to move, jumping to a small boulder beside an opening in the rock formation. The others rush into it as Thorin screams for you to go too, but you remain by his side, unwilling to leave him to defend himself alone while he ensures the safety of his men. His eyes flash angrily but before he can protest the loose warg charges towards him. Before you could even reach it, Thorin had ended its miserable existence with one stroke. He turns to shout his youngest nephew, still stood further out in the long grass as he shoots at everything that moves. "Kili!!"

Kili turns and runs towards you and the warg pack begins to charge as one. Quickly jumping into the opening after his brother, Kili makes way for you and Thorin to finally follow and escape the pack now almost upon you.

Sliding into a dim passageway of rock, you rise to your feet to look back up towards the sunlit entrance as a horn sounds high above.

You gasp, your eyes filling with the emotion of your relief - the horn being the most welcome and beautiful sound you could have heard in that moment, and even as beautiful as the new sound of thundering hooves that vibrated through the hard rock around you.

The whistle of an arrow being loosed comes to you and the next second the body of an orc comes rolling down the slope to land at your feet. You all prod at it with the tips of your swords but find it already dead. Thorin bends to rip a broken shaft from its throat and studies the arrowhead with disgust before throwing it angrily aside. "Elves!"

He glances darkly toward the wizard, the betrayal in his eyes clear as Dwalin's voice echoes off the stone. "I can not see where the passageway ends! Do we follow it or no!?"

Bofur hitches his axe back into his arm and begins to move, "Follow it of course!"

Decided, the others follow on, some navigating the passage better than others, and more than once you had to stop to help heave Bombur through the narrower sections when the hefty dwarf got himself tightly fast.

Your spine tingles as you travel deeper and you find your weariness leaving you, a feeling of warmth and sanctuary spreading through your limbs and into your very soul in its place.

You look back to Thorin walking behind you and staring up at the thin sliver of blue sky high above the ravine, an uneasy expression on his face. You reach for his fingers and squeeze them tightly, wanting to ease him and comfort him, but when his eyes meet yours, filled with mistrust and unforgiving bitterness, you could tell that he already knew and that nothing you did would bring him any kind of comfort in that moment.

You cling to him regardless, more for your sake than his as Dwalin's shout comes again from the head of the column. "There's a light ahead!"

You quicken your pace, breath hitching in your throat as you break through into bright sunshine and the exotic, enticing smells of summer. The sound of roaring water fills your ears and your heart weeps with joy as you look down on that which you had not seen in so long.

Gandalf emerges from the tunnel behind you with the stunned  halfling in tow and answers the disbelieving faces of the others by gesturing down toward the fair halls below, "The Valley of Imladris!... In the common tongue it is known by another name..."

Bilbo steps forward as if in a trance, his expression fitting perfectly how you felt inside as he whispers, "Rivendell."

 

 


	12. See Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. - Emily Brontë

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously on a roll with these updates! :) This one would have been much quicker but this was my first time writing a real love-making scene (as I have always been of the smut persuasion ;P ) and also my first time writing a 'first time' love scene as well - and I'm nervous as hell about it! :/  
> Really hoping to not disappoint anyone here and if so, well, I'll return to out and out smut and what I know best in future.  
> Also trying to hit a happy medium between the book and movie with this part of the story as they differ greatly. So may not always follow the film's timeline.  
> Thank you lovely people as always for the wonderful feedback and I really hope you do like this one <3
> 
> Note: Rating has changed accordingly and there are translations at the end for any who need. Zayugan will be discussed more thoroughly at a later date.

 

" _This_ was your plan all along. To seek refuge with our enemy."

Gandalf frowns down in his continued annoyance with the irate dwarf king that now faced up to him. "You have _no_ enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself!"

Sick to death of the dwarf's mistrustful and bigoted attitude, he grabs his shoulder and pulls him aside, out of the eavesdropping range of the over inquisitive hobbit. Feeling as though he was constantly having to reprimand a misbehaving child, the wizard lowers his voice. "Do not trust _me_ if you will, Thorin. But do not insult the one you profess to love. Do you think that she would have allowed me to lead you within a thousand miles of this place if there was even the slightest chance that your coming here would bring you to harm?"

Gandalf gazes at you over the dwarf's shoulder, now stood on the very edge of the high rise with the others, your eyes shining as you gazed down at heaven on earth - the place you had called home for most of your life. "Look at her. You know how she idolises you. Bringing you here is a huge moment for her. Don't ruin it."

Thorin watches you for a moment, knowing that his first particular argument was beat, but contrary to the last he turns back to the wizard and quickly changes tack. "You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.."

Gandalf nods, agreeing unexpectedly which surprised Thorin, who was usually of the mind that the wizard was there only to usurp his authority. "Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered."

When the dwarf remains silent, the wizard presses his advantage, "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, and respect.... and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to _me_."

The battle won for now, Gandalf stalks toward the rest of you and you look up at the sound of his approach, seeing his frustration clearly in his face. Your gaze passes over to Thorin and your heart sinks when you notice the bitter contempt shining in his eyes. 

Something of your feelings must have shown in your face because he quickly looks away and follows on as the wizard begins to lead the way down the narrow path that cut into the cliff.

Deeper and deeper into the valley the track wound its meandering way, and as you descended the air grew warmer and thicker with the intoxicating smells of summer - the perfumed scent of the vibrant wild flowers meeting with the spicy tang of numerous herbs in well tended gardens. Birds sang sweetly in trees heavily laden with ripening fruit that added their own delicious aroma into the heady mix.

The sound of roaring water grew louder in you ears, the sun sparkling faceted off the many high falls that tumbled down between fair houses. Beneath you, a swift, shallow river gurgled over polished stones as it wound a path through the lush heart of the valley.

Crossing over the arch of a stone bridge you gaze down into the crystal waters to see fat fish lazing in the sun, their noses facing upstream as they ride the current. Beside you, the hobbit's eyes were everywhere at once and you smile at him and the joy that was plain and visible in his face. Catching his eye, you point across the river at the largest and most fair of all the halls in the valley as you head towards it. "The last homely house."

Bilbo follows your gaze, his smile widening as he looks on it with wonder. Behind you, Thorin also studies the delicate balconies and pillars of the hall with distaste, but holds his tongue. However, his expression of loathing deepens when you eventually step on to the intricately carved pathway that led to the courtyard of the principle house.

You sigh as you cross over yet another stream to reach it, feeling torn and at war with yourself. On one hand, you were loyal to him beyond reason and knew his hatred of elves had been well and painfully earned. But on the other, you wish he could put that loathing aside and make a particular exception for the elves of Rivendell to whom you were also loyal, knowing them to not be anything like the elves that had formed Thorin's opinion, or the dwarves opinion as a whole.

It seemed though, that no matter how many times you tried to get that point across, it would always be firmly ignored, and what's more you figured you would only feel the same in his position. You wondered if it was selfish of you to expect any different and for them to get along for your sake - and _why_ that was so important to you in the first place.

Even though it shouldn't, it just felt like, somehow, you were looking for some kind of approval for your affections. You were proud of Thorin, and of your love for him. And you wanted the elves to see him as he really was - who you knew him to be deep down beneath his anger and surly moods. You wanted them to like him as much as you did and give your love their blessing.

Even though approval or lack thereof, would not change anything in regards to your heart, it would still mean everything to you to bring the two conflicting parts of your heart closer together. You loved both peoples dearly and didn't ever want to be in the position where you were made to choose between one or the other.

Judging by Thorin's current expression however, you were not about to get your wish any time soon - and as you all gather in the ornate courtyard, you stand closer to Gandalf in search of comfort for your current feelings of unease.

Glancing up at the steep, stone stairway that led up to the house of Elrond, you avoid Thorin's icy glare and wait patiently beside the wizard until a figure emerges between the two elven guards standing sentinel at the interchange.

The fair, dark-haired elf gracefully descends, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts and seemingly indifferent to finding a group of dwarves in the courtyard. " _Mithrandir_."

Gandalf looks up at last and smiles warmly as the elf touches his long, pale hand to his heart in greeting. "Ah...Lindir."

The elf looks to you as he comes to a stop at the base of the staircase, " _We welcome your return, Dúnadan._ "

You bow your head and place your hand over your heart in response. " _Mae g'ovannen, Lindir_."

Paying absolutely no attention whatsoever to the rest of your companions, the elf returns his eyes to the wizard. " _We heard you had crossed the ford_."

Gandalf nods, switching to the common tongue, "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

Lindir seems totally unsurprised as he responds likewise, "My Lord Elrond is not here."

The old man raises a single bushy brow. "Not here? Where is he?"

The elf opens his mouth to reply just as a single blare of a hunting horn sounds through the valley and echoes from the pale, limestone cliffs. Gandalf smiles smugly and turns to watch the approach of the arriving party.

Sunlight glinted off polished mail and bright standards as the column of horses swiftly approach the landing. Mistrustful and wary of some kind of treachery, the dwarves suddenly begin shouting and withdrawing weapons, Thorin barking orders to his men. You stand rooted to the spot beside the wizard and frown at them in fearful confusion as they all retreat into a small, defensive circle with the hobbit in their midst. 

The horses enter the courtyard with a tremendous clattering of hooves, each animal as proud and noble as the elf hunter who rode it. They form a tight, revolving circle around the huddle of dwarves, hemming them in until the very last horse had finally entered. The riders all pull up as one and a great, black stallion emerges from their midst, the noblest elf of all sat tall in its saddle. "Gandalf!"

"Lord Elrond! _Mellon nîn_." To the surprise of the startled and watchful dwarves, even the wizard bowed before this particular elf. " _Where have_ _you been_?"

Elrond gestures to his fellows in explanation and smiles, " _We have been hunting a pack of orcs that came up from the south. We slew a number near the Hidden Pass_." He dismounts his horse with one fluid movement, his grey eyes coming to rest on you. " _Welcome home, dearer-than-daughter. You have been greatly missed._ "

" _My lord_." You bow low before him, your joy at seeing his fair face again almost tangible. He smiles wider before pulling you into a swift, heartfelt hug that you return with equal emotion before he then moves on to do the same with Gandalf.

Releasing the wizard, his attention passes almost imperceptibly over the dwarves, now only slightly relaxed of their defensiveness. Switching to the common tongue to make them more at ease, he holds a token of his recent battle aloft, "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or _someone_ has drawn them near."

Gandalf at least has the courtesy to look mildly sheepish, "Ah...That _may_ have been us." He gestures toward the party again and Thorin steps forward sullenly, not quite comfortable with and more than a little jealous of the affectionate greeting he had just witnessed - not having to have understood the foreign tongue to get the gist of its meaning.

Elrond turns to face him fully and studies him, making your heart race nervously in your breast as you pray this first meeting would go well. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin regards the elf with eyes of steel, "I do not believe we have met?"

Elrond's brow furrows thoughtfully as he continues to try and get the measure of the dwarf before him. Ignoring the most startlingly obvious reason for knowing the dwarf's identity - _you_ \- Elrond switches tack with his reply, "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror, when he ruled under the mountain."

Thorin disguises his momentary surprise and lack of knowledge in this unexpected answer with indifference, falling to thinly veiled rudeness to mask it further. "Indeed? He made no mention of _you_."

You stare at him with anger and exasperation, but Elrond seemed untroubled. Instead, he switches back to his own tongue in response to Thorin's lack of courtesy." _Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vîn_."

Thorin's face hardens instantly, but it was Gloin who indignantly stepped forward, his booming voice angry. "What is he saying!? Does he mean to offer us insult!?"

Gandalf shakes his head in increasing vexation, " _No_ Master Gloin. He's offering you _food_!"

The dwarves process this new information for a moment and then gather together for a hasty, muttered conference. Silence falls eventually and Gloin turns back to the waiting elf looking slightly mollified. "Ah, _well_...In that case, lead on!"

Elrond offers you his arm without further ado and with Gandalf on his other side he leads his guests up the stone steps to his rooms, leaving a perplexed Lindir to bring up the rear, making sure no one got lost or wandered off.

Finally turning his full attention back to you, Elrond studies you from the corner of his eye, " _I expected your return far sooner, little one. Too_ _long it has been since you last visited the valley_."

You incline your head and walk beside him serenely as he leads the way into the entrance hall of the grand house. " _Forgive me, Lord. I had_ _indeed planned to return sooner, but I was waylaid and otherwise distracted by Thorin's unexpected urge to visit and go traipsing through Dunland_."

Elrond smiles in understanding, his perceptive, grey eyes slipping to your new footwear. " _No matter. I received your message and you are here now. Are you well? You seem... different_."

Gandalf chuckles from his other side. " _That is probably because the lady has spent the past few weeks in intensive combat training_."

Elrond raises a sharp brow, " _Indeed_?"

Gandalf indulges the elf lord's like for detail by recounting the tale of your nightly escapades with Dwalin and you were happy to fall in to silence and let him, instead reacquainting yourself with the beautiful hallways of your childhood whilst being only too aware of Thorin walking behind you and looking on the foreign exchange with a dark, brooding expression of dislike.

Before long, you arrived at the guest quarters and Elrond gestures towards the ornate door of the fair hall, speaking once more in the common tongue as he turns back to Thorin. "Here are your rooms. I hope you will find them to your liking. Please make yourself comfortable and refresh yourselves and I will have someone escort you to dinner shortly."

Thorin nods his thanks as the others pile right inside to explore with much pushing and shoving, and you find yourself glad that he had at least not been rude this time. Elrond turns to you, squeezing your shoulder. " _Your rooms are awaiting you as always, little one. I will expect you at my table also."_

You thank him and then watch as he excuses himself to go and prepare for dinner, his cloak trailing out behind him like a bronze, billowing cloud. With a sigh you turn back to find yourself now standing alone in the hall with Thorin, his blue eyes unfathomable as they rest solely upon your face. Awkward and uncomfortable under his penetrating glare, you shift on the spot and reach out a hand for his bags and mantle.

Confused and unsure he pauses for a long moment before handing them out for you to take, and you hitch your own further up your back to make room. Shouldering his too, you turn on your heel without a single word, desperately wanting to escape the palpable tension between you.

"Askâd?"

His voice comes hesitant, the insecure quality to his deep tone something new to you. Glancing back over your shoulder, you raise a questioning brow. "Yes, Thorin?"

He frowns, working his jaw as he tries to find the words he needed, but they would not come. You shake your head irritably and continue on your way. "I'll see you at dinner. Please _try_ to be civil."

He stares after you as you disappear around a corner, your parting words only further increasing his sudden feelings of loss.

* * * * * *

It didn't take you long to reach your rooms. Deep in thought, your feet had carried you there all by themselves, easily and subconsciously retracing the steps they had made so many times before. 

Pausing atop the narrow, winding stairway, you take in a deep lungful of the intoxicating air and gaze down at the scenery below.

High in the valley and partly hewn from the living rock of the cliff, your small house looked out across the whole of Rivendell, affording you the most breathtaking view of all and also a great vantage point from which to watch the comings and goings of the people below. Lord Elrond had generously gifted you these rooms when you had come of age, knowing of your liking for space where you could enjoy peace with your thoughts without being constantly disturbed by the activity of others.

Smiling softly, you turn away from the splendour of the landscape and push at the door, entering your quarters to find them exactly as you left them. Instantly feeling at home, you dump yours and Thorin's bags beside a velvet cushioned couch with a contented sigh and head straight into your bedroom.

A huge bed took up most of the space, sat amidst piles of soft rugs - its four ornately carved mahogany posts hung with the finest white nets that caught the soft light from the windows and shimmered like tiny stars. Fresh linen had been laid out for you already and you hastily set to work to quickly make up the bed, not wanting to have to bother with it later that evening when you returned. Finally fluffing and straightening the soft pillows you cross to the lattice doors on the far side of the room and throw them open to let in the late afternoon sunshine.

Stepping out on to the wide, paved veranda that ran alongside the house, you begin to take off your clothes, feeling free and unfettered when the warm air finally hits your bare skin. Leaving your things in a pile beside the door, you pad barefoot toward the cliff face, bypassing the circular bathing indentation sank into the floor in favour of a tiny waterfall that tumbled down the rock and into another one of these shallow pools set at its base. It was under this fall that you now quickly bathed yourself, letting the cool waters run over your body and wash away the dirt of travel and the fading smell of troll.

Once thoroughly refreshed, you reluctantly step out from under it and dash back inside, not wanting to be late for dinner. You hastily dry yourself off with a clean towel from the chest of drawers before throwing yourself into the closet for something suitable to wear. Ignoring the many fine gowns of silk and velvet that Lord Elrond had requested made for you and that you had never once worn, you unearth a pair of the softest black, legging pants and boots and pull those on instead.

Finding a thin, tighter fitting shirt of the same colour to match, you then root around for your favourite bodice to complement the outfit, eventually finding it hung between two spun elven cloaks.

You hold out the black as pitch garment before your eyes and study the intricate silver embroidering with an admiring eye before slipping it on over your shirt and lacing it tightly in place. It had been the only proper item of clothing you had ever fashioned yourself and you were extremely proud of it - the long, miserable days spent learning to stitch and sew in your youth paying off on this one occasion at least.

You glance in the full length looking glass on the inside of the closet door and smile at the way the tiny beads and geometric patterning glinted in the light, before quickly brushing and rebraiding your hair and tying it back with a small ornament. A dainty, silver belt about your waist completes the look and finally satisfied, you dash out of the door, not wanting to keep Lord Elrond waiting much longer.

Everyone was already seated when you arrived and you pause behind a spiralling staircase to catch your breath before finally announcing yourself. Lord Elrond rises as you approach the table, unsurprised in the least by your bad timekeeping, having grown accustomed to it over the course of your youth. "Ah, here she is at last. As beautiful as ever too, I might add." He smiles warmly at you as Thorin also rises to pull out the chair next to him for you to seat yourself. You nod in thanks, suddenly very aware of the bare expanse of creamy skin around your collar bone and avoiding his gaze as he returns to his own chair beside you.

"Please forgive my lateness, gentlemen."

Elrond returns to his seat and takes a sip of his wine, his grey eyes fixed firmly on your face. "I assume you were struggling to find a dress, dearest?"

You nod, straight-faced, wise to this game of hints you had played with him for many long years. "Yes, Adar. I searched high and low and not a single one could I find."

A small smirk of amusement plays about the corner of his lips, "It is no matter. I shall have a new gown made for you. Perhaps something with some colour?"

You incline your head respectfully, refusing to crack just yet, but conscious of both Thorin and Gandalf's current bewilderment in this private game of yours and calling it to an end for the time being so as not to appear rude. "If you wish it, Ada. But please do not trouble yourself on my account."

"It would be no trouble." He looks away, accepting the truce for now and turns back towards his other guests, quickly returning to his previous businesslike manner. "Now that our lady has so kindly joined us, perhaps I could see these blades you spoke of?" 

Thorin tears his eyes away from you to find both Elrond and Gandalf waiting on him expectantly. Without a single word he unbelts his sword and hands it hilt first across the table to the elf.

Elrond studies the runes on the scabbard for a moment before his long, pale fingers wrap around the pommel to partially unsheathe the blade. He raises a surprised brow and looks up at the dwarf. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver....a famous blade. Forged by the high elves of the west. My kin." He slides the sword home and turns it, offering the hilt back to Thorin. "May it serve you well."

Thorin takes the sword back with a courteous inclination of his regal head and you smile gratefully, glad to see that he was at least making an effort at last.

Gandalf hands his sword across for examination and Elrond's surprise grows tenfold, "And this is Glamdring. The Foehammer. Sword of the king of Gondolin. _These_ were made for the Goblin Wars of the First Age. How did you come by them?"

Gandalf swallows a mouthful of his food and dabs at his lips with his napkin, "We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road. Shortly before we were ambushed by orcs."

Elrond glances to the wizard questioningly and urges him to continue,, "And _what_ were you doing on the Great East Road?"

Thorin rises from his seat, his meagre store of courtesy now run out in the face of his dislike for giving the elf too much information regarding their quest. He inclines his head, still struggling to be polite for your sake. "Excuse me."

You watch him stalk off to join the rest of the company and pull out his hip flask, unable to disguise the hurt in your eyes.

Seeing your distress, Elrond quickly changes the subject. "Thirteen dwarves and a halfling. Strange travelling companions, Gandalf."

The old man tries to appear innocent and goes straight on the defensive, as much for your sake as his own. "These are the descendants of the House of Durin! They're noble, decent folk. _And_ they're surprisingly cultured - They've got a deep love of the arts."

Right on cue, as if to prove the wizard's point, Bofur suddenly climbs up on to one of the lower tables, goblets and plates sent scattering to the floor as he jumps toward the low plinth in the centre of the wide balcony. He gestures towards Elrond with a huge grin before he begins to sing at the top of his lungs.

The gentle music of the elves fades to silence and the dwarves cheer, the merry drinking tune growing in gusto as others in the company begin to lend their voices to it. You sit in stunned silence, your eyes never leaving Thorin as he continues to firmly ignore the high table and take hearty drafts from his flask, his foot tapping in time to Bofur's ever quickening rhythm.

Behind you, Gandalf squirms uncomfortably, even more visibly embarrassed when a scone goes whistling narrowly across his vision.

The food fight begins in earnest between the tables, most of it aimed at Bofur as he now dances a little jig on the plinth - but some wayward shots that mostly came from Kili, splattered out across the graceful statues that surrounded the dining area.

Bofur finishes his song on a high note, not only covered in food but also to a rousing reception from the dwarves, and aghast, disbelieving expressions from the gathered elves, who had never before witnessed such uncivilised displays.

Feeling close to tears and unable to stand your feelings of hurt, you turn back to find Gandalf with his head in his hands and rise quickly from your seat. Head bowed to avoid the all seeing eyes of Lord Elrond, you beg your leave, "Please excuse me. I find I am suddenly weary."

You turn your back on the table without another word and stalk your way through the others with your gaze cast firmly on the floor to mask the watery sheen in it. The company falls quiet as you pass them by, all eyes on you as you depart the room with barely concealed embarrassment. Thorin watches you leave in silence and for the first time he truly felt regret for his behaviour. He was meant to be a king, but he had allowed himself to become a child just for the sake of spite, and he had never felt so ashamed.

* * * * * *

The sun was sinking beyond the rim of the earth, its last golden rays casting a warm, orange glow upon the white, elegant houses of Rivendell.

Thorin had wandered the halls and corridors for what had seemed like hours to try and search you out and make amends for his actions at dinner - a task made much more difficult by the fact that he had been most unwilling to ask one of the many elves he passed for help.

After losing himself well and truly in the myriad of passages, he had finally meandered his way out on to a large balcony that overlooked the sprawling expanse of the elven refuge. Taking a moment to breathe in the free air and get his bearings, he had looked out - and it was quite by this chance that he had found at last what he sought.

The last burst of light from the setting sun glitters and reflects on something far below, catching his eye - and Thorin squints down to see you sat in a small pagoda beside the river, the light catching the silver in your bodice again as you shift to dangle your feet in the shallows.

Thorin sighs in relief and leans on the balustrade, watching you silently until at last the sun fell from the sky and the stars began to appear in the east. So deep in thought was he that he did not hear the quiet whisper of footsteps behind him until a rich voice makes him startle. "Are you lost?"

Elrond steps up beside the dwarf and follows his gaze, " _Ah_..."

Thorin remains silent, finding himself suddenly uncomfortable at being alone in the company of an elf. _Especially_ this elf. However, Elrond's wise face reflected only calm, as seemingly untroubled as he was by the dwarf's silence or the current awkwardness of the situation. He takes deep breaths of the dusk air and proudly surveys his tranquil kingdom as the lanterns suddenly come alive, shining out along the floor of the valley before rising up to meet the approach of night.

"You bear much anger and bitterness towards my race, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin snorts with derisive contempt, his gaze still fixed firmly on you. "Not without good reason."

Elrond nods his agreement as he studies the dwarf's stern profile and as the wizard before him, sees far beyond the surface. "Perhaps. Though should _we_ then, hold _you_ accountable for all the atrocities that your own race have committed towards mine in the past? Even though you yourself played no part in them?"

Thorin's arm slips on the banister, unable to believe he had been so quickly trapped by wisdom and left without an answer that would not make him seem both foolish and immature.

Elrond continues to look out on the night, his expression serene as he takes advantage of the dwarf's current inability to speak. "I would much sooner take each as I find them and even now do not look to bring up old grievances, but rather put them aside. Both races can have no pride in what has happened in the past, nor can they change it. So therefore they must look to the future and hope to build a better understanding with one another." Elrond's eyes return to you, still sitting in the pagoda far below. "As _we_ two at least have a common ground, I believe it would be a good place to start, don't you?"

Thorin shifts awkwardly, unable, as much as he'd like, to deny the wisdom of the elf's words. It was a few moments before he could finally blurt out what was really troubling him, and his own boldness in admitting such intimate things to someone he now felt was a rival surprised him. "I have always felt closer to her than anyone else, and now since coming here I feel exactly the opposite - as though I have been living a lie and that I don't really know her at all. Even though she has told me much regarding her childhood here, it is still never the same as seeing. And it feels like all I thought I knew about her has been turned upside down."

Elrond listens patiently, also surprised by this unexpected outburst and insight into the dwarf's mind, even if he did not show it. "In my opinion I would say she has never really changed since the day I first met her, so I am curious as to what exactly has made you feel that way?"

Thorin shrugs, frustrated and not really knowing the answer. "I suppose today was an extreme culture shock. You see, I have always viewed her as one of us and have never treated her any differently."

"But she is not one of you, Thorin. As I am a child of two, she is a child of all three races. Both of mine because of blood and yours because of influence. The conflict that causes must have been difficult to reconcile and you did leave quite the impression on her. In all the long years I tutored her, I was never able to rid her of it. But you should always keep in mind that you were not the only one to leave a mark, nor does she belong to your family alone."

Elrond lets the dwarf ponder on his words for a moment before asking another question that interested him. "Could it also be perhaps, that you are jealous?"

Thorin blinks in surprise, unnerved by the elf's perception and finding himself suddenly angry because of the extremely sore point his words had pricked. His voice comes loud and he struggles to lower it. "Of course I am jealous! You gave her everything I could not and because I was not strong enough to follow my heart, it was you who got to enjoy those years with her in my stead, watching her grow and bloom. As much as I appreciate all you did for her, and as selfish as it may seem to you, I will always regret not keeping her by my side."

Unaffected by the sudden outburst, Elrond watches as you rise from the pagoda and brush yourself down, "Would it comfort you to know, I too am jealous? Despite all those years, I will still always be second to you in her affections."

Both surprised and a little mollified by the elf's admission, Thorin watches as you pick up your boots and stalk off into the deepening shadows of twilight, "I would not be too sure of that. She is angry."

Elrond nods matter-of-factly, "I would hazard a guess at more hurt than angry, but yes. I assume that she was looking to build the bridge that I spoke of before, as well as searching for approval."

Thorin raises a brow and turns fully to look at the elf for the first time, "Approval for what?"

Elrond pushes himself from the balustrade and begins to walk, his pace unpurposeful allowing for the dwarf to easily match his long stride, "Of her feelings, of course. She wears her heart on her sleeve and all know of her affection for you - she is very proud of it.... _of you_ ... And always has been. Even if some amongst my kin have found her regard somewhat strange and have never understood the attraction. It only makes sense then, that she would try to take the opportunity of having the two corresponding parts of her family together for the first and perhaps _only_ time, to show them exactly _why_ she feels as she does. The new nature of your mutual admiration is very clear, Thorin. And as I now seem to have become the sole remaining parental figure in her life, our meeting today was for _her_ akin to bringing a suitor home to gain her father's blessing."

Thorin falls into shocked silence, having never thought of it that way and he follows the elf blindly along the passageways, his hand clutching hard at the pommel of his sword as his mind works through all the elf had told him - finding so many things had suddenly become much clearer to him, which only then proceeded to make him feel worse. He could still not bring himself to have any love for the race that had so painfully betrayed his family, but he could also be big enough to admit when _he_ had been wrong and _you_ had been right. This particular elf did not seem like those of the Greenwood and there was much patience and wisdom in all he said. "I did not do myself justice, did I? Not only did I neglect her feelings out of my own hatred, I also let that anger and jealousy rule common courtesy and respect." His blue eyes rise to meet the grey, "For that and for my earlier actions, I apologise and will try to be more mindful of such things in the future."

Elrond smiles softly to himself, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he leads the way towards a less densely housed area of the valley. "Your apology is welcomed and accepted. And if it brings you any comfort, then know that tonight I have witnessed your true mark, and I can finally see why she loves you." He pauses at the base of an ornately carved stairway and turns to face the dwarf beside him. "Even though I foresee that love will bring her nothing but heartache and suffering, I would still give her my blessing, knowing that she will not be swayed from it, no matter the consequences."

Thorin frowns, trying to interpret the meaning behind the vague statement, " _Surely_ you must know that I would never hurt or harm her in any way?"

"Intentionally, no. I believe you would find that to be impossible. It is what harm you will cause her without intention that I fear most of all." The elf breaks off without further explanation and gestures up the staircase towards a small house set high and alone in the cliff. "You will find her in there. And now I will bid you goodnight and leave you both to make your peace."

He begins to walk away but pauses with some last thought and turns back to look at the dwarf still stood staring after him. "Rest easy and enjoy the pleasures of the valley. You are welcome to stay for as long as you should wish."

Thorin inclines his head and stands to watch the master of the valley continue the way they had come, still surprised by their open conversation and the unexpected courtesy with which he had been treated. Once the elf had disappeared from view, he begins the long climb up the stairway, his eyes now fixed upon the small, elegant apartment at the top.

Finally reaching the summit, he pauses to get his breath before knocking on the ornately carved door. You voice comes faint from within, calling for him to enter and he steps inside gratefully, closing the door on the strangeness of the foreign land he had found himself in.

You were sat in front of a large, open fireplace - the flames crackling merrily between the freshly stacked logs in the grate. Spread out on the luxurious rug before you were a dozen books, one of which you held in your lap as you flicked through the pages in obvious search of something. You don't even look up as he enters, having known all too well who it would be, and Thorin finds himself gazing around the room instead to give himself some time to work out how to rectify the situation.

His eyes everywhere at once, he studies every small detail in the hope of gaining even more insight into the part of your life that he had not been privy to up until now.

Behind the door, a wooden manikin stood, bearing one of the most finely crafted armours he had ever seen. He reaches out tentatively to run his fingers along the interlocking pieces of blacker than coal metal - so dark that it absorbed rather than reflected the orange glow of the fire. Despite being of the same design as all the other fair elven armour he had seen that day, it was unique simply because of its colour and all the more beautiful and intimidating because of it.

Letting his fingers slide across the custom made breast plate, his eyes pass over the black, velvet cloak that matched it and then to the ebony bow leant unstrung at its base. He remembered well when you had told him that you had been instructed with the bow, but he had never once seen you carrying one and he suddenly wondered if you were any good with it.

Moving on past a velvet cushioned couch and an oak writing desk he comes to a standstill before the handsome bookcase in the corner. His eyes roam the exquisite leather bound spines to find a wealth of titles and subjects there ranging from botany to geography, cookery to leather crafting. However, the main content of your collection seemed to concern dwarven culture and history, and his heart swells in his chest at the sight, especially when his search brings him to a very dog eared dictionary consisting entirely of Khuzdul.

He entertains himself for a small moment with the image of you as a child, pouring over the book whilst your brow furrowed in concentration and frustration as you tried to master the difficult phonetic structure of the words.

Smiling softly at the thought, he turns past a small wooden stair, wondering idly where it lead before letting his eyes come to rest on a golden harp stood in the opposite corner to the bookshelf. "Do you play?"

You look up from your book to find Thorin gesturing with surprise towards the instrument and shake your head. "No. I requested it hoping to learn because I fondly remembered how beautifully you had always played. But it turned out I had no talent for it and my efforts were disastrous to say the least. I fared much better with the lute." You nod towards the small, stringed instrument laying atop a large, wooden chest behind you and Thorin smiles again, pulling out the small stool beside the harp.

"May I?"

You nod and return to the pages of your book as Thorin seats himself and experimentally plucks at a string. He grimaces slightly when the sound comes flat and looks around for a tuning key. Spotting it on a low shelf beside him he reaches out for it and sets about tuning the instrument properly for you. "I am sorry for my behaviour earlier. It was wrong of me and I sorely regret it."

You look up as he tightens the string and plucks at it again, the gentle note reverberating sweetly throughout the room. "As I am neither your host nor the master of this valley, I do not feel I am the one you should apologise to."

Satisfied, Thorin moves on to the next string, "Take comfort then, for I apologised to the elf also."

You raised a surprised brow and he continues, "I ran into him whilst looking for you and we talked a while. It was he who brought me here."

" _Ah_.. I _had_ wondered how you found me so easily. You're not exactly renowned for your sense of direction and I _know_ you are too proud to ask an elf for help."

"That's a little harsh, but deserved I suppose." He shakes his head and sighs at the further dent to his pride, "I wanted to apologise to _you_ because I know I hurt you."

You nod, your eyes firmly back on the pages of your book, "Yes, you did. But it was no less than I expected. I know your hatred well, so why should I ever think that you would make any kind of effort for my sake?"

Thorin places the tuning key on the stool and abandons the harp for now as he crosses the room to your position by the fire and kneels before you, tilting your chin with his fingers to force your eyes back to him. He sighs when he sees the clear anger still coursing in their depths, "Please stop. I do not wish to quarrel with you. I have made a truce with the master of the house and now I would do the same with you."

He brushes back a loose strand of hair from your face before framing your pale cheeks in gentle hands. "I _am_ sorry. I know how much today meant to you - even more so now - and not only did I forsake my honour and manners in my bitter anger, I also neglected your heart. _That_ is what I am ashamed of most."

He lowers himself further to sit before you, desperate to make himself understood, "I know it is no excuse, but I found myself a little overwhelmed by everything and _more_ than a little jealous of your affection for the elf."

You blink at him in shock, your surprise making you stutter. "But.... but _why_? You have no reason to be jealous."

Thorin's thumb runs the length of your jaw and he watches its progress, "I saw how instantly at home you looked here. It's like you _belong_ here, Askâd. And I saw how you looked at him too, saw the familiarity and heard the easy conversation between you. In that moment I felt like I did not really know you at all, that I had lost you to him."

Thorin's sudden insecurity melts the ice in your heart and you reach for his hand to bring it into yours. "Thorin.... This valley is the only place I have ever settled in for any length of time in all my life. It's as close to a home in the literal sense that I've ever known. But it will never compare to or bring me the comfort of the home I find in _here_." You press your free hand over his heart as you continue, your eyes locked on his. "And Lord Elrond raised me and taught me for many years. Of course I will always have the deepest affection for him. He has been very good to me.... But that does not mean that you still do not truly know me better than any living soul, nor does it mean you will ever lose me to him. Nothing will _ever_ compare to the love I have for you."

Thorin sighs softly, lacing his fingers in yours, "I know. He said much the same thing."

"He did?"

Thorin nods, "Yes. And I feel very undeserving. It feels as though I only ever hurt you, even though it is the last thing I would want. But he said I would do that too."

You frown in confusion, "He said you would _hurt_ me?"

He nods, looking despondent and struggling with some torturous thought that squared the set of his jaw. He looks up into your eyes and you could see his pain. "I can not be who you deserve me to be and that bothers me. Despite knowing that you were right about him, I will still never be able to hold much love for your elf father, dear one. The grievances run too deep and old habits die hard within my race. I can only respect him and nothing more. But I also know that he can give you the things I can not just yet - a home where you can live free and in peace surrounded by beauty and laughter. I have already put your life at risk twice upon this quest, and it is for those reasons I request that .. that when I leave ... you will stay here with him."

You stare at him in shock, your eyes wide and unable to draw breath. It felt as though a hand of ice had reached inside your chest and was twisting at your heart. Your voice comes broken with disbelief and denial, "Thorin... _what_... _Why_ would you say such a thing? My place is with _you_! It has _always_ been you! You are _everything_ to me." You shake your head, struggling to think, "You're all I have ever wanted and it has always come back to you! Not be who I deserve you to be? The day I can be worthy of your heart will be the day I can finally rest, and I do not ask for anything more than that. Material things are immaterial to me."

Firmly in the grip of panic, you gasp for breath and he reaches for your face again, stroking at your cheeks in vain to try and calm you. You attempt to brush him off, feeling betrayed. "You promised me you would never leave me behind again. You promised! And you never break your promises! I will follow you if I must!"

His thumbs find a faster rhythm beneath your jaw and he closes his eyes against his pain. "I will keep to my promise. That is why I am asking you to remain of your own free will."

You shake your head again and finally tear yourself from his grip. " _Never_."

Rising to your feet you make for the door, wanting to get away, needing to get away. Pausing with your hand on the doorknob, you take a shaky breath, unable to even look at him and let him see the tears you were struggling to contain. "I would die for you. But I will not give you this. Death would be preferable to our separation and you know it."

Without another word you slam the door behind you, leaving him alone and heartbroken before the fire. The elf had been right, he thought. He would always hurt you, without intending to do so, but through loving you alone.

His eyes fall to the open book which you had been studying, its crisp pages still resting in the exact place you had been reading. He picks it up without thought and glances at the blurred writing and a single word comes in to focus amongst the sea of black, seeming to burn into the back of his skull;

Zayûgân.

* * * * * *

You ran blindly through passageways and along fair halls, crossing bridges over silver streams that whispered and gurgled into the night.

Passing elves stopped and stared and some even called out to you, but you paid them no heed. Wiping angrily at the bitter tears streaming down your cheeks, the ones you would not let Thorin see fall, you continue on - pushing your screaming muscles and starving lungs to their limit in an effort to feel anything other than the pain in your heart.

Finally exhausting yourself, you collapse against an ornate banister and give in to your misery, remaining there until your body cramped and you had completely cried yourself out. Sniffing pitifully into your sleeve, you finally draw a shuddering breath and look around, searching for some kind of clarity to your thoughts and surprised upon discovering your location.

You should have known really that your feet would bring you here. When betrayed and hurt by one it would only seem to make sense that you would seek out the comfort of the only other soul that truly loved you.

Reaching your decision, you miserably wipe your face on the back of your hand and head deeper into the grand house before you, knowing exactly where you would find him.

He was there as expected, sat reading at his desk with his back to you, long ebony hair tumbling down his slender shoulders to spread out across the resplendent gold thread of his robes.

Without turning, he places his book down, having known of your presence even before you yourself. "Can't sleep, dearest?"

You step quietly up to his side and get straight to the point, pleasantries having never been your strong point. "Did you ask him to leave me?"

He finally looks up at you, his pale gaze taking in your swollen, bloodshot eyes and dishevelled hair. You repeat the question in elvish when he does not immediately answer, " _Did you tell him to leave me, Adar_?"

He pulls out a chair and motions for you to seat yourself, his arched brows almost joining in the middle as he frowns. "Of course not, dear one. Why do you ask?"

You slump into the proffered chair and gaze back at him forlornly whilst he turns his own so as to be able to see you properly. "What has happened?"

You shake your head and bite your lip to hold back further tears, "He asked me to stay _here_ when he leaves. He said that you could offer me the life that I deserve - one that _he_ could not give me."

" _Did he indeed_?" Elrond leans back into his chair surprised, his new found respect for Thorin only growing. "The dwarf is stronger than I gave him credit for. I can only imagine what it must have cost him to even _utter_ those words."

Your watery eyes turn questioning and he leans forward to frame your face in his long, pale fingers. "He is trying to put you before himself because he _loves_ you. He recognises that you could have some sort of happiness here with others who care for you and he is offering you that chance, despite knowing what it will mean for his own heart. It is a noble thing he has done. I am impressed. And not _only_ because I am biased in not wanting to lose you myself."

You shake your head, having expected the elf's sympathy, not for him to agree with Thorin. "Adar, he knows too well that I would find no true pleasure or joy in anything if he were to leave. A world without him would not hold much colour for me at all. As the one who patiently guided me through the restlessness of my youth, I would assume you know this too."

Elrond nods, resigned. He brushes back your unruly hair and then releases you to pour you both a glass of some clear liquid from a cut glass decanter on his desk. "Of course I do. I saw the course your childhood affection for him would take while you were still only a babe."

You take the glass from him when he offers it to you and gaze down into its crystalline depths. "What do you truly think of him? He said you spoke with him earlier?"

Elrond nods, taking a sip of the his own drink, "I was actually surprised by our conversation. I expected more resistance, but I see you have gotten him to open up a little." He smiles when you look up at him and studies you thoughtfully, knowing what you were really asking of him. "He's as proud and noble as his grandfather before him, with all the same stubbornness of his race. And his tragic experiences in life have further hardened him and made him bitter and hateful. He trusts rarely and is filled with much anger and hurt. But beneath the grim, brooding exterior there is much to admire. He has a great strength of honour about him, with sound principles and a good heart. I also perceive him to be steadfast, trustworthy and extremely loyal, and he finds his way back to that - to his _true_ self, through his very clear love for you. Does _that_ answer your question?"

Unable to help smiling at little at this very accurate description of Thorin, you take a sip from your glass, the rich, fragrant flavour of the elvish Miruvor warming you as soon as it hits your tongue. The effects of it course their way through your body, soothing your pain and bringing you new strength and clarity. "You told him he would hurt me?"

The weary elf sighs and places down his glass, "Does he not? I saw the new lines of care he has already put there the moment you arrived."

"It is no less than I have done to him."

"Perhaps. But when I look at your future all I see is further sorrow and I fear for it."

Your tone becomes lighter and more indifferent in an effort to mask your growing unease. "And what _else_ did you see, Adar?"

"Would it change your mind or make the slightest difference if I told you?"

You shake your head, "No. But I would still know. Please."

Elrond hitches up his robes to get more comfortable and for a moment regards you pensively over the laced fingers beneath his chin. "I foresee many things. Some clear and some mostly hidden from my view. I know what he is planning and I know to where he goes. He shall fight hard to win his moment of triumph and succeed, though I fear that it will be bittersweet and come at great cost. Something now troubles me from afar and I do not know yet what it is, but I feel that his ambitions and your love will come to effect us all, for good or for ill, and the world will be forever changed - as you yourself will also be when you leave this place."

You silently ponder the meaning of the words as you slowly finish your drink, finding them to be both a comfort and a curse. "Thank you."

When you eventually rise and place down your glass, he stands too and reaches out his arms to embrace you. You go to him easily and let him envelop you in his protective warmth and kindness, the scent of warm rain and summer fruits that always clung about him and reminded you of your childhood, bringing you an instant comfort. He presses a gentle kiss into your hair and squeezes you tight. "Sleep soundly and do not fear for tomorrow, but rather take comfort and joy in today. "

You sigh as he releases you far too soon and reaches down into the cupboard underneath his desk. "Here, take this. It will help soften his mood."

He shoves another bottle of Miruvor into your hand and you nod in thanks. "Goodnight, Ada."

"Goodnight, little one."

He watches you leave his side with a mixture of pride and sadness and hoped against all hope that he would be wrong.

* * * * * *

Soothed slightly by your conversation with Elrond, you had made your way back to your quarters deep in thought to find Thorin pacing the room as he waited for you to return. He looks up in clear relief when you enter, "Where have you been?"

You close the door behind you and shrug off the question. "To think and clear my head."

"And?"

He watches your every move as you cross the room to a low cabinet and pull out two wine goblets. Pouring out the Miruvor you press a glass into his chest without once looking at him and stretch out on to the couch with your own. "And nothing. I now understand your reasons for saying what you did, but once again you fail to see it from my point of view and I will _not_ change my mind."

Thorin sighs and lowers himself on to the floor beside the couch, his eyes sincere and earnest as he gazes up at you. "If successful, I _would_ have returned for you and given you everything, Askâd. I just wanted to give you the chance to be happy in the meantime. I do not know how much longer I will be able to hold back from you and my biggest fear is that I will allow you to bind yourself to me out of my own need, only then for me to fail you in this quest."

He reaches out for your free hand and holds it desperately against his lips. "I want to give you so much, but how can I ask you for your vow when there is the possibility that I may not..."

He breaks off and swallows hard, looking suddenly fearful. You frown, stroking your thumb along his bottom lip. "May not what?"

His eyes fill with sadness and worry and he clears his throat past the constricting lump in the back of it. ".... _Survive_..."

You shake your head in horror, sick to the stomach with even the thought of entertaining that possibility and unwilling to face your own worst fear of losing him. "Then all the _more_ reason for us to stay together and not delay any longer. I told you, I am already bound to you, Thorin."

"In love, yes." He downs his drink in one, his fingers tightening around the glass as though he was desperately searching for something physical to cling to that would keep him from falling away into a world of pain. "But as it stands, you can still walk away. You can build a new life for yourself somewhere else.... with _someone_ else..."

His voice finally breaks with even the notion and you stare at him in stunned silence, so disbelieving of his ridiculous words that it actually makes you angry. "Are you _actually_ serious? Do you understand _nothing_ at all of my heart?"

He seems to shrink under your icy glare and the warning present in the softness of your voice. You take a deep breath to try and restrain yourself from screaming at him, from shaking him until he finally understood all he meant to you. "Do you think so little of my love that you think I could _ever_ be with anyone else? Do you think I would ever choose any life that did not have _you_ in it? Because if so, you are truly mistaken. Just as you are mistaken if you think I am willing to stay behind here and wonder if you are safe or if I'll ever see your sweet face again. No, Thorin. That can not and will not be borne. I am bound to you more truly than that, and if we are to die then we shall both die _together_."

You down your drink to soothe your heightened emotions and rise to get the rest of the bottle, firmly intending to drown yourself in it.

"You would _truly_ cleave to me?"

"I would. I wish for nothing else."

Thorin gazes at your back for a long moment, the elven drink he'd just swallowed giving him more clarity and courage than he'd felt in an age, making it easy for him to reach his decision.

It was time to put everything aside, all the doubts and all the fears. It was obvious that no matter how hard he tried to protect you, he would always end up hurting your more by doing so. You were determined to never leave his side no matter the cost, and if he was to be honest with himself, despite the fear of you coming to harm, he was more than relieved. Even though it had pained him beyond anything, and he couldn't imagine what his life would become without you, he'd had to give you that one last chance to walk away and be free. But now, with your refusal, it was time to end it. It was all or nothing for both of you and further delay was both pointless and insulting. This love was a precious gift and you were both throwing it away in fear of ' _what if_ ' instead of following your hearts.

Too many years had been wasted already and now he would not waste another second. He would do what felt right. What he should have done before you even set out on this wretched journey - what he should have done as soon as he had known of your affection.

He rises to his feet and searches out his bag from where you had left them behind the door. Dropping back on to the couch with your recovered bottle, you watch him rummaging around inside it, impatiently unearthing his pipe and his tobacco pouch as he empties out a small inner compartment.

Emerging at last brandishing a small roll of parchment, he abandons the rest of the scattered contents and returns to your side. You move aside to make room for him as he squeezes himself down beside you and takes a deep, steadying breath before handing it out to you. "I can promise you nothing then, except that I will love you for all eternity."

You take the scroll from him with an intrigued frown and hand him your bottle in exchange whilst you rise to get your letter opener from your desk. Turning it over, you gently slide the knife through the red seal to break it, noting the small flower crest that matched the ring you wore, pressed into the wax. Placing down the letter opener, you curiously unfold the thick parchment and begin to pace before the fire as you read.

It took you two lines of Thorin's elegantly flowing hand to realise exactly what it was you held. Your breath catches in your throat and you turn to him with wide eyes, your voice hardly a whisper. "When did you write this?"

He looks back at you, his shoulders tense as he sits nervously on the edge of the sofa. His gaze however, was calm and steady, "Just before I left the Blue Mountains, the night you told me you loved me."

Your eyes fill with tears and you bite your bottom lip to control the trembling of your chin. "Why now and not then?"

Thorin shifts awkwardly and sighs with regret, "I wanted to, truly. But as I have just told you, I thought it unfair to expect such a thing."

You shake your head and return to the parchment, your watery vision blurring the writing and making it more difficult to read. Your heart pounds erratically behind your ribs with every line you decipher and you struggle to contain the huge wave of emotion constricting in your chest.

Thorin continues to follow your progress, his eyes never leaving you even for a second and noting the way your fingers trembled and shook the paper. He takes a quick draft from the bottle he now clutched tightly in his lap, hoping it would calm him as at last you stop pacing and let the letter fall away to your side.

Standing with your back to him you stare into the flames and his nervousness becomes almost palpable. He swallows thickly and tries to control the dull thudding in his chest as he waits for you to say something.

"Take a walk with me."

He gazes at you in stunned silence, having not quite expected that particular response. "Excuse me?"

You turn to face him, the tears still streaming gently down your flushed cheeks as you place the parchment reverently on your desk. "Take a walk with me."

You grab your bag from beside Thorin's and move swiftly into the other room without further explanation, upending the sack on your bed to make room for the few bits you hastily gathered together and packed back into it.

Shouldering it, you rush back to find Thorin still sitting in exactly the same place as you had left him wearing exactly the same expression of bewilderment and anxiousness. You snatch up his pipe and pouch from the floor, as well as the bottle in his lap and shove them into your bag too before grabbing his hand and urging him to move. " _Come on_."

Your touch sparks him to life and he allows you to tug him dumbfounded through the door and into the night. "Askâd... What - .... _Where are we going_?"

You shake your head as you quickly descend the stairway and pull him off the paved pathway and into the shadow of the trees. "I want to show you something."

He follows you blindly, his legs moving of their own accord and not even noticing that your direction was always gently climbing as he wonders what was going through your mind and whether or not he had made a big mistake in giving you the scroll. The warmth of your hand became his only link to reality and comfort and he grasps it tightly as he tries to think of what he could have done to possibly upset you or make you behave like this.

You made no attempt to speak to him or end his confusion, concentrating instead on finding what you so desperately sought. He was only brought from the torturous feelings of his assumed rejection by the sound of rushing water filling his ears. The pressure on his hand changes as you guide him towards a large waterfall that fell hundreds of feet from its precipice high above the ledge where you were now standing, to tumble past you into a deep pool lost in the shadows far below.

"This way."

His uncertainty only deepens as you begin to pull him behind it, until he sees a narrow, roughly hewn stairway cut into the living rock of the cliff itself and hidden completely by the falling water.

You begin to climb, releasing his hand momentarily so as to be able to grip the damp, mossy stone and steady yourself - and he follows just behind, his new found curiosity outweighing his feelings of hurt for now.

For a small eternity you climbed onwards and upwards, carefully navigating each step as the steep stair wound back and forth upon itself behind the gushing waters. Even Thorin, as hardy as he was and used to such climbs, was soon out of breath and his brow beaded with the sweat of his exertion and the humidity of the warm summer night.

Just as he had begun to think that there would be no end to the number of these accursed stairs, he emerges gasping behind you on to a wide, grassy ledge sat only a few feet below the very top of the ravine side itself. Clutching his ribs, he walks out to survey the view and finds his breath stolen for the second time.

The twinkling lights of Rivendell seemed to be nothing more than faint stars in the sea of black hundreds of feet below, but even they, as fair as they were, could never hope to match the real thing. Thorin's eyes were wide as he gazes up into the night sky and he felt as though he were suddenly flying, like the whole world had fallen away and he would be able to touch the bright, white beauty that dusted across his vision if only he reached out his hand. He had never seen so many stars in all his life and even the smallest most distant of them seemed to gleam like the fairest diamond.

Your arms around his waist steady him as you step up behind him, and he goes without protest as you turn him gently towards the thin sliver of moon, riding high in the east over the curve of the valley. The pale light seemed to shine and reflect, forming the shape of a wave crest on something that he couldn't at first make out. He squints and lets his eyes adjust as he studies it and you see the moment the realisation dawns on him that it was the snowcapped heights of the Misty Mountains that spanned before him as far as the eye could see. You press a soft, heartfelt kiss to his warm cheek as you lean in to whisper in his ear, "These were my mountains and my fireflies. It was where I found escape as a child to feel closer to the gods - closer to you. I wanted you to see."

He turns in your arms to face you, his soft gaze filled with such emotion as it meet yours. "They're _beautiful_. Thank you."

You nod as you release him and take a step back from him, staring deep into his eyes. "I accept your pledge .... Now let all those gods bear witness to mine.."

Throwing your bag to the floor you reach up and begin to slowly unlace your bodice, welcoming the surprised yet avid gaze that followed every move of your slim fingers as they worked their way down to your waist and eventually drew the material away from your body.

Tossing the garment aside, you pull your shirt over your head and emerge proud and bare chested to stand before him, the darkness of your intent already clearly visible to him in your eyes.

He gazes the curvaceous length of you without shame, finding you beyond beautiful in the pale light of the moon, and overcome by the urge to touch you and caress your soft skin, he reaches out for you. Going to him easily, you fold yourself into his strong embrace, soft lips meeting his naturally and without thought, questing and yearning to taste him - to feel the consuming heat of his mouth as it falls into a gentle rhythm against your own.

He pulls you hard against his body as his tongue slips past your parted lips to explore unreservedly the warm, wetness of your mouth and you moan softly, sharing his breath, your head light and dizzy with the taste of him and the scent of warm, musky earth that filled your senses making you yearn and ache for more.

Reaching around his back, you fumble with the buckles of his belt and release him of it before tugging at his coat, desperate to once more experience the sweet burn of his bare flesh against yours. He responds to your need and his own by tearing off the offending material, his hands clashing with yours in your haste to get his shirt off too.

As soon as his broad chest was free, you press yourself back against him, feeling as though you would not be able to stand another second without the pleasure of his touch. Driven by longing, your hands lose themselves across the vast plains of his torso to feel his his strong heart racing in tandem with yours.

His lips move to ravish your jaw as his fingers slip through your hair and down the bare expanse of your back to pause at the waistband of your pants. Your hips shift eagerly in his clutches, your back arching in longing for him and he smiles softly into the sensitive skin just below your ear as he curls his thumbs into the form hugging material and slides his hands inside.

His palms brush against the gentle curve of your backside to rest firmly on the fullness of the flesh, making you pant with need when he finally grasps the swell of each cheek in his large hands and draws you tight against his groin.

Your breath hitches in the long waves of his raven hair as you feel his growing arousal pressed hard against your inner thigh and for the first time ever you ignore all inhibition as you slide a hand between your joined hips to touch him in return.

The muscles in his stomach tense and his lips fall away from your neck as he groans wetly in your ear. Your fingers hesitantly explore the firm, thick bulge of his manhood, cupping, caressing the shape of him through the soft velveteen material of his pants, fascinated by the way the flesh continues to harden and grow beneath your encouraging touch, restricting further the already limited amount of space now left in its constraints.

His erection spasms in response as you gain in confidence from his reactions and begin to stroke and massage him more firmly, your deft fingers growing in swiftness until their rhythm became almost unbearable to him.

His kneading grip on the curve of your backside tightens and burns like fire, his soft pants becoming ragged and heavy in your ear. His hips buck and shift when he finally spirals firmly out of control and thrusts himself into your hand, wanting more, needing more of the delicious friction that was threatening to drive him into insanity.

"Let me see you, my love."

He hastens to quickly fulfil your request and the fire recedes from the aching flesh of your behind as he withdraws his hands. He shifts away from you slightly, impatient fingers reaching for his fastenings and unlacing himself, relieving the painful pressure constricting his blood flow.

Your breath comes quick and shallow as he kicks off his boots and socks and tugs the royal blue velvet from his hips and down his muscled thighs, releasing his arousal at last from its suffocating prison.

He pulls the folds from his feet and tosses the pants to the floor, straightening up to stand before you noble and fully erect - the vision of masculine perfection.

The rest of his body was just as exquisite as you had expected it to be and your starving gaze takes in every in every inch of it now, from the swell of the bulging mass of his thighs to the slim taper of his narrow waist and the defined dips of his hips, you didn't want to miss a single detail.

Hungrily, you follow the dark trail of coarse hair from his chest and down his taught stomach to where it came to rest in a dark crown about his groin. Your breath catches and you swallow hard, biting at your lip as your eyes come to rest on the full, thick length of his manhood.

The swollen tip glistens wetly in the silvery light, still leaking heavily from your ministrations, and the flames of your longing burn ever hotter at the sight. Your skin sears and your chest heaves, the first tingle of nerves turning your stomach to water as you anxiously contemplate his intimidating size.

Not wanting him to see your reservation, you return your eyes to his, sincere. "So beautiful."

His cheeks colour at your words and you were surprised to see that he too was nervous, the hard set of his jaw and the whiteness of his eyes betraying his fear of rejection clearly to the one who knew him so well.

It was this more than anything that strengthened your determination and quelled your nerves. He was the truly the most stunning vision you had ever seen - all that you had ever wanted or desired and by the gods if you were not going to make him yours forever.

Resolved, you quickly pull off your boots and slip out of your leggings, adding them to the pile of garments you had both already discarded. Naked at last you hold out your hand to him, waiting until his fingers had laced with yours before guiding him towards the roaring fall that fell from over the cliff face a few feet above your heads to fan out in a sparkling torrent that curtained from view your hidden sanctuary. A few foaming rivulets tumbled against the wide ledge before they continued over the steep drop into nothingness and disappeared, and it was into these you now led him.

The crystal mountain water hits your flesh like an icy blast, making your skin tingle and rise, and you shiver as you seek to immerse yourself in it, wanting to freshen yourself up for Thorin after your long climb and also hoping the slickness of the water would somehow help you prepare for him.

Once fully submerged in this frigid shower, you turn to face him, bringing up the hand you still held and placing it upon your waist, wanting him to touch you. Reading your intent, he brings his other hand up to join the first, caressing, grasping your flesh to pull you close again, and you part your smooth thighs to accept the erection that was now dampened by the coolness of the water.

Taking control, he slides himself without pause between the warmth of your legs, the wetness of your skin against his own making it easier to align his hips with yours in one single, fluid movement. His nose nudges the underside of your jaw and you tilt your head back to give him access, your hands finding the sodden mass of his long hair as you firmly hold the heat of his mouth to your skin. Your heart skips and stutters and your breath quickens again when he begins to move against you, slowly thrusting himself in and out of your trembling thighs.

Your body tenses as the arousal begins to pool in your lower stomach and you untangle your fingers from his raven waves to slide the length of his spine and caress the solid hill of his behind. Your short nails dig into his bronze flesh when you feel the strength and firmness of his erection returning and you gasp heavily against his shoulder as you pull him into you harder and faster, needing more friction. "Thorin, help me.. I need.. I-"

He silences your pleas with a firm kiss which you devour insatiably, the fire in your abdomen now almost unbearable with primal need.

His instincts take over and he removes one of his large hands from your hip to bring it to rest instead between your legs. You moan in satisfaction and hitch a pale calf around his waist, clinging to him all the tighter as he parts you with ease, thick fingers intimately exploring and massaging the sensitive folds of flesh that yearned for him to uncover their secrets.

You cry out in pleasure when he finally finds what he seeks and your back arches when you feel the tip of his finger breach and enter you. He presses slowly through the pulsing rings of muscle that withstood him, always conscious of hurting you as he works to ease you out and open you up.

Your hips sink desperately to meet him, sending his fat middle finger deeper into the glorious heat, making him loose a guttural groan from deep within his chest and begin to thrust it inside you, gently at first but becoming faster and more purposeful when you start to squirm against him in ecstasy.

Your small noises become louder and deeper moans of encouragement in his ear, spurring him on and giving him the confidence to try you with another finger, but you shake your head, feeling ready to accept him and unable to stand the fire within you that was longing to be sated any more. You look back into the dilated pitch of his eyes, your expression pleading in your restlessness, "I want you.. Please, Thorin.. I need you in me.."

He groans at your words and removes his finger from between your legs, leaving you suddenly feeling empty. Lifting you instead into his huge arms, he carries you out of the water and into the warm night as though your weight meant nothing at all to him.

Impatient to surround himself in the heaven of the all consuming heat he had felt inside of you, he lays you into the short, springy grass beside the white walls of the cliff and lowers himself on top of you. You open your thighs gladly to receive him and he settles between them, holding most of his vast weight from you with the strength of his bulging arms alone.

You squirm gently as you feel the tip of his arousal pressing against the swollen flesh of your desire and try to position him better, but he himself makes no move to enter you. Instead he gazes down at you as though he could scarcely believe that you existed and that you could ever want to be his. His voice comes soft as it echoes the expression in the blue depths,  "Are you _sure_ this is what you want? ... You have to be _so_ sure, Askâd. There is no turning back from this."

Your eyes water with the realisation that he cared for you so much that he was still willing to give you this one last chance to turn away from him even now. You still beneath him and gaze back, your heart swelling to bursting with the strength of your undying love for him and unable to contemplate even the thought of ever living without him again. "I have never been _more_ sure of anything in my whole life... You are all I have ever been sure of... You are my destiny, my one love .... _Zayúgân_."

His own vision blurs when he hears the word tumble from your soft lips and the great puzzle of your lives falls into place with each being the missing piece to the other. He sighs softly as he reaches up his fingers to comb through the splayed, saturated waves of your hair. "Very well. I will take a daughter of great kings of men and I shall make her a queen."

You reach up to caress his warm cheek with gentle fingers. "I do not desire to be a queen. To be your wife is an honour far greater."

He presses his lips to your fingertips and shifts his weight between your thighs. "Then you shall have it."

His hand momentarily leaves your hair to take a hold of himself and position himself against the heat of your flesh. You nod when his eyes return questioningly to yours, signifying that you were ready for him, but still unable to stop your whole body tensing as the pressure against your flesh increases as he seeks his entrance to you.

The pushing sensation recedes again momentarily and he rubs at you gently, patiently, teasing your aching flesh with his fingers while waiting for you to relax yourself before he tries again. Your spine curls under the returning pressure and you lift your hips slightly, desperate to accommodate him this time. You gasp when he finally manages to enter you, your fingers twisting painfully into the soft earth to steady yourself as he opens you out further.

He pauses just inside of you, refraining from thrusting himself deeper into the promised sanctuary of your living flesh and instead waiting for you to acclimatise yourself to the feel of him and loosen up. "Breathe, my darling."

You do as he asks and take a deep, glorious breath, not realising your lungs had been starving until he had pointed it out to you.

Concentrating on the concerned love you found in his eyes you will yourself to relax further and breathe slowly until the sharp, burning pain between your legs begins to fade and becomes replaced instead by a gentle warmth that spread throughout your thighs and into your lower stomach.

Relieved to at least have made it this far, you now ease yourself back against him, wanting to feel more of him inside you, and he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he slides even deeper through the rippling tightness that constricted against every inch of him - letting you take him in your own time so that he would not cause you further pain.

Impaling yourself down on to his throbbing flesh as far as you would go, you flop back into the grass and pant with the exertion of it, feeling yourself filled truly and completely for the very first time and slightly overwhelmed by the thought. You glance up at him to find him still in the same position as before, his eyes closed and his head slightly tilted back as he savours every second and every feeling of being sheathed to the hilt inside the woman he loved more than life itself.

You reach out to smooth your hands over the broad expanse of his chest and settle around him, feeling the tingling current of energy that came from him flow throughout your entire being and connect you to him in a way you had ever known before. "Take me.."

He opens his eyes to you at last, his fingers fanning out on either side of your head to support his weight as he rocks his hips experimentally to find position, once, twice and then thrusts himself back into you in a single, fluid stroke.

You moan deeply and clutch the tops of his muscled arms, your legs wrapping themselves firmly around his narrow waist to send him even deeper into the almost feverish heat of your body.

You move against him, clumsily at first but then keeping time with his rhythm as he moves inside you with greater urgency. Your skin smacks and slips roughly against his as you sink down to meet his every rise, your spine curling back on itself as the first waves of pleasure begin to rise at its base.

You seek for purchase on the unyielding flesh of his shoulders as you urge him down, wanting to feel more of his weight pressing you harder into the soft earth. He leans in, capturing your lips passionately between his own, the raven waves and braids of his still damp hair tickling against the rise of your flush, sensitive breasts and surrounding your faces like a dark halo.

Gasping and panting into his mouth, the noises of your increasing pleasure become louder and more animalistic and he devours each one eagerly, unaware that you could ever make such sounds, nor that he could ever be the cause of them. His thrusts becoming more erratic as he loses the last of his control and gives himself completely over to you to do as you would with him.

Your body convulses and clenches tight about him in an iron grip as one of his mistimed thrusts sends him deeper than ever before and he hits a spot inside you where glowing embers of pleasure pooled and spread - igniting them to send a bright spark of lightening rolling up throughout your entire body, consuming every inch of flesh that it touched with the promise of ecstasy.

You tear your lips away from his and press your face into the dip of his throat to muffle your cries and he shifts his weight on to one hand as he comfortingly holds your trembling body tighter against his chest.

Angling himself better, he aims for that spot again, your desperate keening noises and the nails digging mercilessly into his flesh signifying when he had found it. Using all the strength left in his powerful thighs, he thrusts harder, knowing he couldn't hold on for much longer now, his erection now throbbing and pulsing with the need of release as he drives himself repeatedly against it. The sweat beads on his skin to run in small rivulets down his shivering flesh and his pants become harsh and broken, drowning out the heavy thudding of his heart in his ears.

Your spasms grow in force, making it even harder for him to move inside of you as he desperately works to make you come undone - and the feel of you clamping repeatedly around him threatens to defeat even his superior dwarven stamina.

Just as he thought he could not hold back any longer, your entire body stiffens against him, becoming rigid - and Thorin tightens his hold on you as your back arches insanely, caught in the first throes of climax.

The crashing waves of pleasure surge through you, making you tremble around him and see stars as your eyes roll back into your head. You call his name as if in prayer and Thorin loses it right then and there, his own climax coming swiftly as with one final thrust he releases himself deep inside you.

He cries out with the sheer force of it, his muscles tensing and flexing as he struggles to keep from falling apart, and you feel the warmth and wetness of his seed spill in hot spurts that coated your insides with liquid fire. You take all he has to give you before finally spent, he collapses against you heavily, panting hard.

Struggling with his dead weight, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and take him back with you into the soft grass to recover. He presses his face gratefully into the creamy swell of your breast, listening to your fluttering heart racing beneath his ear as you envelop him in your warm, protective embrace.

You lay with your eyes closed, every sense exaggerated as you gasp for breath and concentrate on the wonder of the violent trembles that still racked through your weakened limbs and held you at their mercy. Thorin groans when a particular delicious spasm makes you clench on him again and you smile, pressing an apologetic kiss into his hair and hold him to you all the tighter.

His strong heartbeat, much faster than usual, reverberates through your midriff as he shifts in your arms and tangles his legs with yours, striving to get even closer. You open your eyes and glance down at the dark crown of his head and a sudden surge of emotion threatens to control and overwhelm you.

You raise a hand to caress tenderly at his cheek and tense, surprised to find it wet with the warm salt of tears. Frowning with sudden concern, you raise yourself slightly and tilt his chin with your fingertips the better to see him.

His deep blue eyes meet yours as he lifts his head, made even more vivid and beautiful by the liquid sheen that now resided in them. The tears continued to roll freely down his cheeks, glistening wetly in the dim light of the rapidly lightening sky, and you stroke firmly at them with a thumb to swipe them away.

You had seen him deeply emotional many times, but had only ever witnessed him cry openly once before, and the sight of it now makes your pounding heart ache. You wonder suddenly if you had done something wrong, you were new to this after all, and the panic begins to take hold, bringing you swiftly back to earth. "What is the matter?"

He shakes his raven head, his eyes softening when he sees your anxiousness and seeks to quickly set your mind at ease. "I just never knew anything could be like that."

Raising a large hand, he brushes back the mess of hair from your face and thumbs the flush of your cheek. "This moment is the best of my life and ... I love you. I love you so much it feels as though my heart can not contain it and it has finally gotten the better of me."

You sigh into his arms when he reaches out for you for comfort, letting the momentary feeling of panic vanish as the surge of indescribable love returns to flow through you unchecked and washes it away.

He leans back and draws you into his lap, careful to stay inside you and not wanting to lose the most intimate connection he had yearned for. You moan softly when you straddle his hips, the movement driving his diminishing manhood deep inside you once more. 

His lips soon find yours, soft and slow, pouring every single bit of the emotion he now felt inside into this one touch alone and leaving you breathless in a heartbeat.

You remain that way for an eternity, feeling more alive than ever, cocooned in a bubble of bliss as you explore each other - your small sanctuary filled with gentle caresses, soft murmurs of love and tender, heartfelt kisses.

The stars soon fade as the sky turns from pale grey to copper green and gold overhead, signalling the fast approach of dawn. Birds stir from their roosts to sing sweetly in the trees far below and the world comes awake, welcoming the new day.

Thorin watches the sun rise in your eyes and felt like he was seeing it for the very first time  - that he had never before witnessed its inherent beauty.

The first golden rays of it surrounded you and silhouetted you, turning your creamy skin to gleaming alabaster in his arms as you watch it burst majestically from the horizon - and once more he finds his breath completely stolen away.

You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It seemed to him as though Mahal himself had begged of Ilúvatar to create the most perfect vision he could ever imagine and grant this wondrous being life so he could send it as an angel to love and watch over his son.

His utter belief in this fuels the fire of his convictions and renews his courage - and Thorin knew without a single doubt that he would always find the strength he needed to wake and carry on, as long as he had you by his side to guide him.

The knowledge of it brings him peace and he longs to give of himself as much in return, to place himself solely at your feet and trust with his whole heart. His lips form a single word that they had never once before uttered, his deepest secret, and he suddenly feels as though every fibre of his being had been torn apart and exposed.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes widening in realisation and comprehension of the momentousness in the barely whispered word he had just bestowed upon you.

You turn your head slowly to face him, finding complete trust and tranquillity shining there in his gaze, and you felt as though you were seeing him truly for the first time - seeing all he was and all he could be laid bare before you to judge as you will.

There was an intense darkness about him that he could no longer hide, but there was also much beauty too. And love - the bright, burning sparks of it powerful enough to hold even these shadows at bay.

You tremble with the strength of the power you now held over him, the power he had so freely gifted to you.

The power of his true name.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of translations for those who don't know:  
> Ada - Dad/Daddy  
> Adar - Father  
> Mae g'ovannen - Well Met  
> Mellon nîn - My Friend  
> Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vîn - Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests.


	13. To Have And To Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say change is as good as a rest, but both is always better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the slight delay with this. AO3 didn't wanted me to copy and paste in my format for some reason. But anyway, we're here now with Chrome instead of Firefox and another HUGE chapter for your (I hope) enjoyment. Hopefully there will only be one or two until the end of movie one - Whoo! 150,000 words later ;D  
> So I'd just like to say thank you to everyone that has stayed with me and actually enjoyed my wayward ramblings and that I hope you continue to love them just as much. :)

Thorin leads you to the cool torrents of water, a small bar of scented soap clutched tightly in his grasp. Stepping in beside you, he begins to bathe you - this final act of tending to you sealing your new bond and leaving you feeling more cared for than you had ever felt before in your life.

You close your eyes, statuesque and unmoving as his large hands wash your hair - his thick fingers gently removing the tangles and separating the long strands as he soaps it through and rids it of the dirt and bits of grass he had pressed there in the throes of his passion the previous night.

His gaze follows his movements, admiring you openly from every angle as his hands work ever lower over your body, lathering your soft skin in fragrant suds.

Taking his time, he caresses and explores every inch of you with reverence, his warm touch lingering on all the places that seemed to make you weak at the knees and struggle to remain still.

You open your eyes when his fingers trail up your inner thigh and finally came to rest between your legs, and you swallow hard at the sight of him hardening swiftly in response, his eyes filled with the dark ink of his desire as he gazes upon you.

You didn't know who reached for whom first, but you quickly found yourself hauled up into strong arms before you had time to think, your legs wrapping easily around his slim waist as he enters you in one, powerful thrust.

Gone were the nerves and the awkwardness of your first encounter and he moved inside of you now with strength and purpose, his ragged gasps and moans filling your ears.

Encircling his neck with your arms, you cling to him tightly and press your face into his shoulder to muffle your cries - sliding easily against his broad chest and arching down desperately to meet his every stroke. His kneading grip on your thighs burns like fire as he brings you swiftly to climax, devouring your quivering moan of ecstasy with the heat of his mouth as he loses himself inside you.

The intoxicating after effects of your sudden, uncontrollable intimacy lasted long after, even as he held you to him for an eternity, whispering soft words of love as you finished bathing one another - the remnants of his seed washing away in the sparkling falls of water.

The two of you had spent the most part of that morning in your lofty sanctuary, wrapped completely in each other and your love, both beyond reluctant to leave it and have to return to the outside world.

However, when the sun began to ride high in the sky and Thorin's stomach began to grumble with his hunger, you realised you would have no other choice but to rouse yourselves.

Only with a hearty draft of the elven Miruvor had either of you found the energy to make the long descent, and it had left you both feeling more sweaty and breathless than even your love making.

Torn between sadness at leaving the night behind and an urgent need for refreshment, you had ambled your way back to your quarters hand in hand, each enjoying the companionship of the other and the tranquillity it brought you.

Upon your return, you found breakfast already waiting for you in the shape of a large basket left before your door, no doubt at Lord Elrond's request, and decided to take it out on the sunlit veranda amidst the colourful bursts of your patio garden.

Needless to say, Thorin's want to bathe before eating and the consequences of this, had placed all thoughts of eating out of your minds for the time being, and now you laid tangled and sated beside the small waterfall than ran down over your veranda, dozing in the warmth as you dried.

"What are you thinking?"

Your fingers pause in their drawing of haphazard patterns over the freckled skin of his shoulder and you smile. "I was thinking how I will never be able to look at waterfalls in the same light ever again."

Cheeks colouring, he lifts his head from your breast and you marvel at how he could still be even remotely shy after the past few hours. "I don't know what came over me, forgive me."

You raise a brow, "For what? I am certainly not sorry for your lack of control."

Sceptical, he frowns and studies your gaze intently for any signs to the contrary. "You're _sure_ that I did not hurt you in any way?"

You roll your eyes and lean in to press a soft kiss of reassurance to the corner of his mouth. "Thorin, _please_ relax. I told you that you hadn't. I'm just a little sore. But it is the kind that I am _definitely_ looking to worsen the very first opportunity I get."

Finding no trace of a lie in your eyes, he allows himself to melt into your embrace and finally smiles, "You're insatiable.... _Not_ that I am complaining."

You wink at him mischievously, allowing your brow to rest against his, "I have _you_ as a lover. What did you expect? I have a lot of time spent desiring you to make up for and the Valar save me if the day ever comes when I can keep my hands from you or want you to keep yours from me."

His eyes fall away from yours, his blush resplendent but betrayed by the smug smirk that played about the corners of his lips. He rubs your nose affectionately with his and then returns his head to your breast to listen to your heartbeat. "I will never want to keep my hands from you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Your heart swells to breaking point for his words and you tighten your hold on him, drawing him even closer against your body and pressing a soft kiss into his hair. "As you are me."

He relaxes further into your arms, burying his face into the hollow of your throat with a contended sigh as he breathes in your lightly fragrant scent. "I can see why you enjoy being held like this so much."

"It serves a dual purpose."

His raised brow tickles at the sensitive skin of your neck, "How so?"

You smile softly, trailing your fingertips along his spine. "Not only is your embrace the safest place on this earth for me and the only place I'd ever want to sleep, but it also affords you the same protection - as anything that wants to get at you has to go through me first. At least, that's how I always looked at it when I was little."

Thorin emerges once more from under your hair, his face lined with emotion, "Trying to take care of me, even then?"

You smile softly, raising a hand to frame his warm cheek. "Always. You never realised just how much I loved you, Thorin. Since that very first day.... In a different way, it's true, but it was no less than now because of it. It felt right to be with you, like I belonged there and I was where I was always supposed to be. It was that which eased for me the passing of my father and made our own separation so very painful."

His expression tender, he leans up on an elbow to look down into the depths of your eyes, "I know you heard my conversation with Dain ... Do you believe it to be so?"

Not needing to ask further what he meant, you stroke a thumb over his beard, thinking over every moment spent with or without him, "Do I believe in Zayûgân?... That you were the one who was destined for me? Yes.... But do I believe that greater hands played a part in making that so and it is divine?" You shrug as you gaze back at him, "Elves and men alike have similar theories, though who am I to know if the gods take such interest and we are all set a path to tread - or if indeed it was nothing more than mere chance and situation and we all make our own way in the world instead.

I believe fate led us to one another for a purpose. And it is not my place to question that purpose, or the reasons why Vairë wove my destiny with yours. I do not need to. All I know and need to know is that I love you more truly than I ever thought it was possible to love another person, as I always have and always will. If that was because Aulë willed it so, then he chose well for me and I thank him. I only pray that he will allow me to remain with you until the very end of all days."

Thorin's lips find yours, gentle and warm, "Let anyone, living or divine, try to keep me from you ever again."

Comforted, you smile against his jaw, the expression only growing when his stomach growls again with more urgency, vibrating through your midriff. You squirm gently under his weight and pull back to look at him, "I am neglecting you here with idle chatter. I really should feed you before you become a wraith."

Thorin thinks about that for a long moment, finding starving to death to be a perfectly acceptable price for being able to stay here like this with you forever. "I can wait."

You laugh softly, reading his intent with ease, "Oh no you don't...The quicker I feed you, the quicker I'll be able to have my way with you again...."

His beard twitches into a grin and he rolls his eyes as he reluctantly begins to rise, taking you with him and pulling you to your feet. You sway unsteadily to find your balance and he wraps an arm around your waist as he leads you to a large, reed woven chair sat next to a matching patio table. "I was right when I said you would be the death of me."

You bite your lip, eyes shining wickedly, "I suppose I could always find something else to do if feel you can not manage it, my Lord. I am certain that I have some unfinished embroidery somewhere..."

He snorts as he drops into the chair and pulls you firmly into his lap, covering the both of you with a soft throw brought out from the bedroom. "I hope you know that I am going to make you regret saying that by morning, my love."

Laughing, you curl up against him and rub your cheek against the scratch of his beard. "I very much doubt it. But I'm all for you trying."

You untangle an arm from the blanket to grab the basket on the table and bring it into your lap. Pulling aside the thin cloth that covered it, you offer it to him and wait until he pulls out a heavy bunch of red grapes. He quickly dissects the vine and presses one of the fat, juicy fruits into your mouth without ceremony. "You know, you _do_ also realise that you have to reveal all your deepest, darkest desires to me now? I would fulfil every last one. It is my duty."

Swallowing the grape with a smirk, you reach for a small orange, deft fingers ridding it of its waxy skin as you separate the soft segments and return the favour to him. "Indeed? And what if my deepest, darkest desires include being thrust mercilessly over the throne of Erebor, to be ravaged by my king until all the mountain echoes with my screams of pleasure?"

Thorin almost chokes on the citrus and emerges from his coughing fit to look at you with wide eyes, "Then I swear to Mahal, I will kill the dragon with my bare hands for such a chance."

You laugh softly at his expression of intense longing and settle against him to eat in earnest, finding the array of fruits, nuts, cheeses and pastries a welcome change after weeks of heavier fare.

Rubbing gently at your back, Thorin chews thoughtfully as he gazes out over the valley, "I never thought I would ever come to have any fond memories of this place.."

You smile at the sentiment and take a drink of fruit cordial from the silver flask provided in the basket. "Maybe I could show you more of it if you were of the mind. You might find many other moments to enjoy here."

"I would like that." He returns your gentle smile as he takes the flask from you. "I only wish Dis could see us now.."

Your expression falters at the mere mention of her name. "I really miss her, Thorin..."

His kind eyes soften with empathy, "I too. And I'm sure she misses us just the same."

You look up at him forlornly and he reaches out to stroke at your cheek in comfort, "She always wanted a sister... She was too young to remember our mother and spent all her life surrounded by us. You mean so much to her because you are as near to it as she ever had. She would be overjoyed to know that she now truly has her wish."

"She always did. It did not take you and I to make my love for her as such."

Thorin nods in agreement, "It was not just for herself that she made that wish, though. But for me too. In fact, she was most vocal about it from the night you returned."

You laugh despite yourself, feeling a sudden rush of affection for the wicked, overbearing dwarf woman, "How very much like her. I ignored all the warnings that I should never tell her of my heart, or you and I would never hear the last of it."

Thorin grins as he finishes his breakfast and you place the basket aside, rising from his lap and letting the throw fall away from your body as you hold out a hand to him. "Come. There are some things I would show you, for old time's sake."

He raises a brow, his gaze locked firmly on your current nakedness. You give a long suffering sigh, "Maybe we should clothe ourselves first, though?"

Shaking your head, you slip indoors to quickly find a chemise and pull it on, leaving him to follow after in search of his pants just to appease you.

Once somewhat dressed and less distracted, you motion for him to sit on the rug before the burnt out fireplace as you drag out the large wooden chest from beside the wall. Kneeling yourself next to him, you unlock it and push open the lid, allowing him to peer inside.

Reaching in, you rummage around carefully and draw out a small pair of severely worn, aged boots and offer them out for him to take. He gasps, his eyes filling with memory and emotion as he gazes upon them, his large hands making them suddenly appear so very tiny. "The first boots I made for you?"

You nod, watching as he runs his fingers lightly over the dented, carved metal tips that were all that was left to hold the worn leather together. "I can not believe you have kept them."

You smile softly, "It would have broken my heart not to do so and cast away one of the very few things I had left of you."

Leaning into his side, you let all the feelings connected to those objects flood back to you and close your eyes, your voice soft as a whisper as you immerse yourself in them, "They hold so much memory for me that sometimes I look back on it as though it was yesterday ... And I can see it all so clearly - how big the setting sun had looked when you finally returned from town. How soft the rich earth of Rohan had felt beneath my feet and how fragrant the sweet grasses had been as I ran to you. I can still hear your laughter and feel the happiness I felt when you pulled me up into your arms and I saw that, despite my worst fears, you were unharmed. But most of all, I see so clearly you making those for me beside the fire. I can see how you looked as you laboured on them long into the night, every line, every curve of your face - your hair blacker than coal and bereft of its silver then, but your eyes still like the bluest topaz I have ever seen, shining bright as you stitched." You sigh softly, the vision of how he was then vivid in your mind, "So noble and fair you seemed."

He watches you intently, hanging on your every word as he too remembers so well. You open your eyes to him and smile, "Everyone since has always told me how unlucky I have been in my life, but in that moment I did not feel as such. You were a good father, Thorin. Not only to your people, but to me. I felt very lucky indeed to have you."

Rendered temporarily speechless by your words, he presses his face into your soft hair and closes his eyes. "I remember putting these on for you and watching you try to walk in them for the first time. And Frerin said... He said..."

"That it would not take me long to learn and that I was becoming more like a dwarf every day?"

"Yes.... He said you would soon be growing a beard..."

You both laugh through unshed tears as Thorin pulls back to look at you, his thumb sweeping the line of your smooth jaw. "He was wrong in that much at least."

"I do not think I could ever pull off facial hair. I haven't the features for it."

Thorin nods with agreement and reluctantly returns the boots. You hold them reverently, "You were right though when you said these would make stubbing my toes much less painful. They saved me from many a broken bone." Running your fingers over them one last time, you carefully place them back into your chest of memories with a sigh and draw out some beads instead. "The beads Dis gave me the day I left."

Thorin takes them from you, admiring his younger sister's early handiwork as you reach back inside the chest and pull out a leather bound book. "Balin's stories....I used to read them in bed every night before I went to sleep."

"You know he's threatening at least two more volumes just from the adventures you told him of already on the road?"

You snort as you place the book down between you and pull out a small, ornate chest. Opening it, you spread the contents before him and bring various bits and pieces to his attention. "My father's ring." You hand it to him to look at as you rummage through the rest and Thorin points to something glittering in the bottom of the pile. "What is that?"

You pick it out and hand it to him too. "The brooch Asvi gave me in Dale."

Thorin studies the small turquoise and agate pin resting in his palm and you continue with a small smile, "I wanted to see the renowned markets I had heard so much about, so after many tantrums, my father asked my nanny to take me. And that's where I met her, at a toy stall in the main square. She was the first dwarf woman I had ever seen, and well.... you know how I was and am... I was curious and insanely fascinated. I couldn't understand then why she had a beard. So I marched right up and asked her."

Thorin chuckles fondly as he imagines the scenario, "She was very good natured with me and we soon became firm friends. Every week I would visit her and sit with her, drinking fruit teas and listening to her stories of the mountain whilst my nanny ran her errands...."

Your smile falters and your voice breaks, in remembrance of how that happy friendship had concluded, "I was going to visit her that day .... She told me to come see her whilst my father did his business with the King. I never saw her kind face again. I've always wondered if she survived or what became of her."

Thorin frowns down at the small pin, his voice quiet with feeling. "She was not among those who travelled with us. But many of our women went instead to the Iron Hills and the Grey Mountains. Perhaps she remains there..."

"I have always hoped so."

He nods, handing you back the ring and the brooch, his conviction heavy in his tone. "I will try my best to find out what became of her for you, my love. I give you my word."

Comforted, you smile at him as he looks for some distraction by picking up a delicate, silver case from the rug.

"My mother and father."

Thorin gestures with it questioningly and you nod, encouraging him to open it. Gently unfastening the clasp, he separates it and peers curiously at the likeness of your parents housed inside. Running his fingers carefully over the faded portraits, he smiles. "I always wondered what your mother looked like. You are very much like her."

You nod and rest your head against his shoulder to see the pictures, "My father and uncle used to say so too."

"What was her name?"

You snatch up a thin, cylindrical object wrapped in wax cloth from amongst the mess and open it to withdraw a scroll of thick parchment. Unfurling it gently, you show it to him. "Elrienne..... I hardly have any memories of her and I never wanted to hurt my father more by asking about her. He badly grieved for her always, I could tell. So I never even knew her name until I found this in the chest I recovered that day when you took me back to the ruins of my house."

Thorin raises a brow and places the portraits in his lap so he could take the parchment from you and see it better. "Their marriage contract?"

You nod as he scans the flowing script with soft eyes, "My uncle and Lord Elrond have told me more about her character since, though. They say she was a kind, noble woman who had a great talent for healing. Irony really that she was taken from this world by illness."

He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, "I am so sorry, little one."

"Likewise, my love." You rub his bare back for mutual comfort, "We have both known great loss. _You_ even more than I. And even though it is a bitter thing to swallow indeed, they never really leave us and we can be comforted by the fact that we will surely see them again some day."

He hands the silver case and scroll back to you with a gentle smile and nods, "Of course. But let's not rush to do so. Agreed?"

You place the items aside and wrap your arms around him, "You mean you would deny the beautiful woman who gave you life, the chance to chase me around Mandos with the huge axe we spoke of for seducing her precious son!?"

His mood lightened as you had hoped, Thorin snorts and rolls his eyes as he pulls you into a huge bear hug, almost burying you completely in his muscled arms, "Always so ridiculous. For one, it is _not_ seduction if that _precious son_ was practically begging you for it in the first place. And two, my mother would most _certainly_ adore you, but even in the non-existence chance that she would not, she would still have to get through me first."

You grin into his beard, "Well, just so we're clear...My money is on your mother. Five minutes at best."

He raises a surprised brow and pulls you back in his arms to look at you, playing along with a look of pretend outrage. "I would have you know that I am now far more skilled than I was at fourteen!"

You nod innocently, eyes wide as you struggle not to laugh. "I am sure of it. That is why I said _five_ minutes and not _two_."

He scowls in comic disbelief, "You injure me... What happened to defending your king's honour and stoking his pride?"

You snort with suppressed mirth, "Your ego is already large enough, my love... But maybe I can find something else to inflate instead..."

You distract him suddenly by capturing his bottom lip between your own and sucking on it firmly; and he draws you closer, unable to resist your advances. "You don't seem to understand the concept of fighting fair, dear one."

You murmur your agreement as your press one last, lingering kiss to his lips and rise from his arms to stand before him. "What was it that you said about seduction again? Something to do with _begging_?"

Pulling your thin nightdress over your head, you drop it into his lap and turn towards your bedroom with a sly grin, "Now I wonder where I left that embroidery..."

He gazes between your discarded shift and the door you had just disappeared through, his mind struggling to catch up for a moment before he suddenly scrambles to his feet and rushes after you, unlacing himself as he goes.

* * * * * *

It was just after dawn when you awoke from the deepest and most peaceful sleep you had ever known.

Two nights of no rest, fearing for your life, fighting trolls and being chased for endless miles by wargs had left your emotions in shreds and your nerves frayed. You had been on the verge of complete mental and physical breakdown and the only cure, as always, had been Thorin.

Even though your path to true happiness had been far less than smooth and somewhat heartbreaking at times, you had finally achieved all you had dreamed of with him and those experiences along the way had only made your bliss seem even sweeter to you now.

You open your eyes to a crown of raven waves spread across your chest and smile, tightening your hold on the dwarf in your arms.  
He stirs slightly but sleeps on, also exhausted by not only the recent events leading up to your arrival in Rivendell, but also the fair amount of exercise you had given him since being here.

Your entire body ached deliciously with the effects of it, and despite Thorin's teasing threat, you couldn't find it in yourself to regret either the feeling, or spending the rest of the previous day and most of the evening with him inside you.

You stretch your legs experimentally, working the tightness in your muscles and Thorin shifts again with a soft mumble and rolls over on to his back - allowing you a full, unrestricted view of his entire body in the dim light of the partially shuttered lantern.

You turn on your side to study him, memorising every hill and valley of solid muscle, from his powerful legs, to the length of his manhood, crowned by dark curls and still intimidating despite its relaxed state against the top of his thigh. A flame of desire sparks through you and you struggle to bury it, wondering not for the first time if your constant burning need for him would ever subside.

Sighing softly, you tear your eyes away before the urge to give him a very rude awakening became too strong, and instead follow the trail of coarse hair up over the broad, steadily rising and falling mass of his chest and up at last to his face.

He looked more peaceful than you had ever seen him, his handsome features relaxed and serene for once, with none of the care or frown lines that usually etched his skin visible. The sweetness and innocence you had noticed about him before were now accentuated and more apparent, and it stole your heart.

You still couldn't quite believe this infinitely beautiful being had bound himself to you for all eternity, that he was yours forever - and the mere thought makes your chest constrict. Gently brushing back a few stray wisps of his hair, you lean in and press the ghost of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your voice hardly a whisper, "I love you more than life, Thorin. Never forget that. Do you hear me? Never forget."

He quietly murmurs your name in his slumber and you smile, gazing down on him for a long moment more before leaving him to his rest and carefully climbing out of bed, deciding it was high time you made good on that statement.

Stretching yourself out fully, you softly pad your way into the living room to recover your chemise and slip it back on to keep out the early morning chill, surveying the scattered items of your chest, still laying there abandoned from the day before.

Stoking the glowing embers of the fire, you fill a kettle from your water skin and place it over the coals to boil for tea and quickly begin to tidy everything away.

Once everything was back where it belonged and as it should be, you make yourself a cup of shire grown leaf and sit down at your writing desk to drink it with a sigh.

It was there that Thorin found you a couple of hours later, curled up in your chair with the early morning sunlight streaming through the small, stained window and glinting off your hair. He pushes a silky wave of it back from your shoulder and presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, "Good morning, dear one."

You hum in contentment as you tilt your head back to look up at him, "Good morning, my darling."

He takes advantage of your new position by finding your lips instead and kissing you tenderly, "How long have you been up?"

You smile softly, "Only a little while. I didn't want to wake you." Rising from the chair, you stretch your cramped muscles, "Tea?"

He nods and returns your smile, sitting himself in the seat you had just vacated as you pad to the fireplace to make him his drink and refill your own cup. He glances down at the polished oak of your desk and the contract he had given you still laid flat in the centre of it. His vision suddenly blurs when he sees it now bore a second signature beside his own, the fresh ink burning into his eyes and leaving him feeling suddenly overwhelmed. "You signed it..."

You place a cup of freshly brewed tea in front of him and lean into his side, "Of course I did."

He wraps an arm around your legs and presses his face into the dip of your hip, "I never dreamed this day could come for me... Let alone that I would ever see your name joined with mine."

You place your own cup on the desk and soothingly run your fingers through his sleep dishevelled hair. "And I dreamed without hope that I could have this day with you. And it is with an infinite joy that I write my name with yours."

With a trembling breath, he reaches up for your hand and guides you into his lap, wanting you closer. You go easily to him and let him wrap his arms tight around you and hold you near. "How you honour me. I am proud and blessed indeed to have such a queen."

You smile softly and trail your fingers through his beard, "I told you, I do not desire to be a queen. Only to be with you. And now I have my wish."

He reaches up to grasp your chin in his fingers, his tone gently reprimanding, "But a queen you shall be nonetheless, because you are mine and I am yours. It is your right by birth and by vow. And you and I _will_ oversee both of our people's lost kingdoms restored to their great glory of old. May Mahal himself bear witness, I swear it."

You swallow hard at his strong sentiment, seeing the conviction clearly in his eyes, "If you wish it my love, it shall be as you say. Of that I have no doubt."

His features soften in satisfaction and he draws you back against his chest. "Thank you, dear one."

* * * * * *

After a small breakfast made from the remains of the basket that had been left you, you both bathed and dressed, and at Thorin's request you headed out into the valley, thinking it rude to not at least show your faces after your long absence the previous day.

Calling first on the rest of the company to find them all content and doing what dwarves did best - eating, drinking and generally making the best of it - you decide to give Thorin a sample of the various points of interest to be found in Rivendell.

Hand in hand you strolled without purpose and Thorin turns his full attention to the view for the first time.

You could see the momentous change in him now - feel the difference that your coupling had brought about in both of you since the night he had taken your innocence. It was something hidden deep inside that made its presence known through your bearing and different view of the world around you. In a way, it was as though you had grown at long last into something beyond each of you alone.

You smile up at the sky, giving him time to take in the sights as he glances about him with new perspective. It felt to him as though he had gone through all his life with clouded senses and had never really seen what had surrounded him even once before.

For the very first time, Thorin could truly appreciate the beauty of the valley, the splendour of the waterfalls, the sweetness of the air. Everything seemed fresh and alive to him, the colours vivid and vibrant in his new eyes.

Now he saw it through your vision and the world was rich, emerald green, golden sunlight and deep, sapphire blue and, much like the stars he had seen the night before, paling by comparison the gems of the earth his race had always thought so fair.

His thoughts drift to Erebor with all its bygone splendour and grandeur, and he dreams of the modifications he could make with his new found vision. He would fill the vast halls with golden sunlight from high, stained windows and he would channel the river to sweep down in majestic falls from living rock. He would accentuate the magnificence of the Mountain until it once more paled to insignificance every other Kingdom in Middle Earth.

He would do all of this for you. He would give you a home so fair that you would never once need to grieve for this one.

He sighs contently with the thought, filled infinitely with new hopes and possibilities for the future that further fuelled his determination and ambition. Squeezing your hand he brings it to his lips to find you watching him with a tender expression.

"What were you thinking of just now?"

He smiles softly, "I was thinking of all the things I would give you."

You press a kiss to his cheek and lean into the comfort of his side as you cross over a small bridge to reach the far side of the gorge. "I already have everything I could ever want in you."

He smiles again and studies intently the slender fingers resting in his own as you follow the banks of the gurgling stream. "Perhaps they are things that I need to give."

You raise a questioning brow, but he shakes his head and squeezes your hand all the tighter as you come upon a fair vineyard set against the gentle, southern rise of the valley floor. A glint of sunlight on ebony, and an elf emerges from the house and waves cheerfully at your approach. Changing direction to meet him, you wonder if Thorin's current store of happiness and good will was large enough to allow him to be courteous.

It soon became apparent that it was and you introduce him to the elf, Lendlin, explaining to Thorin that he was in the presence of the finest winemaker in Rivendell, to which the elf seemed most pleased and flattered.

Thorin was extremely polite throughout the introduction and to your surprise even accepted the elf's offer of a view of the wine cellars.

You follow the tall, lithe Lendlin inside to where a small group of others were already pressing the pulp of that years crop - preparing it for storing in the large oak casks to mature before bottling.

Very knowledgeable on fine wines and the drinking of them himself, Thorin soon took to asking many questions of these elves, delighting both them and you with his unusual interest. They eagerly talked long with him about their processes of making both wine and mead - and even the Miruvor he was growing to be extremely fond of - before inviting you both to help them press.

Ridding yourselves of your boots, you roll up your pants and after washing your feet carefully you stepped foot into the press, reaching for Thorin to steady yourself.

Both smiling like children, you begin to tread the grapes, bursting the plump fruits under your heels and releasing them of their copious amounts of sweet juice. Thorin works his way around you with smug satisfaction, pressing twice the area of your own due to the size of his feet alone, and he winks at you in triumph, as though it had been a challenge of some sort.

The elves goad you on as they watch and Lendlin laughs in delight. He turns to his fellows, his fair face glowing, "We have never had dwarf pressed wine before. And not just any dwarf gentlemen, but the King of Durin's folk himself! What a wine _this_ shall be! The finest, rarest vintage in all of Middle Earth!"

Thorin snorts as he retreads the pulp, "I shall expect to taste this most excellent vintage.."

Lendlin nods with an earnest grin, "We shall send you a crate Lord, never fear! But in the meantime, let us open another fine year and toast this joyous memory!" He browses a rack that ran the length of one wall, his slim fingers hovering for a moment before darting out and pulling out a dark dusty bottle.

Wiping it clean, he opens it and allows it to breathe as you finished off the first treading. Once done, you step out of the press into Thorin's waiting arms and head off to clean your feet and legs again, with him stealing a swift kiss as you paddled in the small stream outside.

When you returned, you found a glass of redcurrant wine waiting for you and Lendlin and his men lift their goblets in a toast, "To the King of Durin's folk, may his beard grow ever longer - and to his Lady, may her grace and beauty never lessen. May the Valar watch over you and may you both be blessed."

You raise your own glass, "To new friends and old - and glad memories of hours spent with both. May you all be blessed."

Thorin nods his agreement and does likewise, "To the finest winemakers in all of elvendom. May their grapes grow ever bigger and their bottles never be empty."

Laughter fills the hall and Lendlin gestures to Thorin with his glass, " _That_ I can not promise, Lord Thorin. Your friends seem to have taken a great liking to our vintage!"

Thorin takes a sip and raises a brow, "With good reason. This is very fine, very fine indeed, gentlemen."

Lendlin bows, overjoyed by the assessment and Thorin's courtesy. You smile softly at him as you drink, you heart bursting with happiness at the effort he was making to be pleasant and charming. Something that definitely seemed to be working on your hosts as then one bottle after another is opened and you soon find yourself more than merry with the effects of the various fruity concoctions.

You whiled away most of the day drinking in the sun with the elves, who were firmly won over by the dwarf as, getting more inebriated by the minute, he told them many tales of the drinking contests he had participated in when he was a youth and the dire and often hysterical consequences of each of them.

The laughter rang out loud and often and you watched him interact and entertain them with quiet pride, surprised but happy that even he seemed to be enjoying himself.

It was with great reluctance when you both finally begged your leave from the merry party, but they still had work that needed to be done and you had eaten nothing since your meagre breakfast.

Lendlin presses another bottle on Thorin with a vow that he was welcome to join them any time he felt inclined for a serious drinking contest and laughing you took your leave and said your farewells as the cheerful party of elves waved you off.

Thorin staggers along beside you as you urge him towards the kitchens, a permanent grin etched on to his face. You laugh at his expression, "You seemed to like them at least?"

Thorin nods, squeezing your hand more tightly as he regards the bottle in his other. "You should always try to be charming and befriend a decent winemaker, whether he be man, dwarf or elf. The benefits far outweigh the cost."

You laugh again in amazement and his grin widens, "I hope you do not require me tonight, dear one. I think perhaps your embroidery will have to suffice, after all."

You raise a wicked brow, "Forgive me, my Lord. I did not realise the wine would relieve you of the use of your fingers or your mouth. For if so, I surely would never have let you become so intoxicated."

He follows your laughter all the way to the kitchens and shakes his head with flushed amusement, "I can see she has never really been one for embroidering."

* * * * * *

The coming few days leading up to midsummer passed swiftly for you in your bliss, and you soon became well rested and strong again, the sacred air of the valley breathing new life and hope not only into you, but also Thorin and the rest of the company too. Only Elrond and Gandalf remained conspicuous in their absence, but you were too content to question it, and more than glad at least on the latter's account. As much as you liked and respected the wizard, it seemed to you as though he was the main cause of Thorin's less than affable mood swings and you didn't want to ruin a single moment of this time spent with him in peace and happiness.

Between long hours filled with frenzied love making, where you knew nothing but the feel of the dwarf lord inside you and the heat of his mouth, you still found some time away from your pleasure to take him to other places of interest within Rivendell - although admittedly, this amount of time was rapidly decreasing as your moments of intimacy became ever longer and far more daring.

Nevertheless, you did at least take him to see the vast library of Elrond, where he amused himself a while as you described in better detail how you had set fire to it. He also found himself deeply surprised and humbled when after exploring the many alcoves, you had brought him upon a broken sword displayed in one of the many annexes there. Thorin listened with great interest as you filled the gaps in his own knowledge of Middle Earth's history by recounting the tale of Isildur's defeat of Sauron with the very weapon before him, and to him it felt as though he had wandered into memory itself, the very air thick with the destiny and hidden power held within that blade.

On the fifth day after your arrival in Rivendell, you awoke to a message that made you even happier, and rushed off to the stables with Thorin to find that Nithoel had at last found his way home with sixteen stout, dwarven ponies in tow - all looking slightly worse for wear after their few days of living and grazing free in the wilds. After greeting your faithful mount and making sure that he and the others were all well cared for, you recovered the saddlebags that had been with them and returned them to their owners, who were all relieved to have most of their supplies and possessions back with them.

Last of all, on the eve of midsummer, you led Thorin through the bustling activity of the elven refuge, watching folk scurry about as they rushed to prepare for that evening's saturnalias, until at last you came upon the forge.

Knowing his liking for such things and wanting his stay to continue to be as pleasant for him as possible, you whiled away a day with the blacksmiths and metalsmiths of the valley as they crafted fine things from gold, silver and steel.

Like the winemakers before them, they seemed delighted with Thorin's interest and went out of their way to converse with him.

This time, it was he who found himself being asked the questions as the elves showed him courtesy and respect by requesting his opinion on the broad subject of smithing and crafting - admitting to the dwarf's expertise in these areas.

Once again, you watch him engage with them from a perch atop a vine encrusted bannister, finding great peace and happiness residing in your heart.

He had tried so hard to make these days beyond perfect for you - another gift to his new mate - and judging once again by his current expression he had found some enjoyment in all of that too, even if only because of your happiness.

You wonder silently if there would ever come a day when you would not love him more than the one before it, and when you finally took your leave of the smiths and he took your hand, you knew that it truly would be impossible.

Fingers firmly laced, you journeyed back towards your rooms as the sun began to fall towards the western rim of the valley - and you felt you couldn't contain your joy any longer. "Thank you, Thorin."

He releases your hand and wraps a strong arm around your waist to give you a squeeze. "For what, dear one?"

You lean into his side with easy companionship, "For the great effort you have made recently and for making me happier than I have ever thought it possible to be."

He smiles tenderly, "It was the very least you deserved, for you too have made me just as happy in return..... Besides, I _did_ actually manage to find pleasure in it myself, as surprising as that may seem to you."

You laugh softly as you cross a wide terrace and head towards the stairs to your quarters. "I'm glad. And I will not tell anyone, I swear it."

He nods earnestly, "Thank you. My reputation as a cold hearted, bitter misery was hard earned."

You snort as you reach the top of the steps and stop short when you're suddenly confronted by a large parcel blocking your way to the door.

You untangle yourself from his grasp to investigate the cloth wrapped package and the two notes pinned into it. Scanning the words quickly, you hand them out to him. "One from Lord Elrond requesting us at his table for the midsummer feast and one from the wizard asking you to bring your map with you."

Thorin frowns as he reads the notes and you squeeze the parcel with an expression of both irritation and amusement. "Not _again_.."

"What is it?"

You answer Thorin's question by pulling at the string to unveil the item you knew without doubt the package would contain. Sure enough, you unfold the cloth wrapping to come face to face with folds of soft silk and rich velvet, that despite Lord Elrond's threat of more colour, was a deep, royal blue that glinted almost black in the dying light.

You look up to find Thorin's silent hilarity written all over his face as he gestures towards your new and promised gown, "I assume your elf father has had more trouble getting you to wear a dress than even my dear sister?"

You scowl at him as you bundle the material back into its wrappings and carry the whole lot inside. "He finds it _so_ amusing! I have a closet full of gowns that I have never worn and he knows it, yet he still will never give up on this little game of his. Well, I will show him.."

Thorin raises a brow as he follows you through the door, his heart bursting with love for you and his mirth only growing as you continue to rant, "What are you going to do?"

You dump the parcel on to the couch and turn to face him with the wicked glint that only spelt trouble shining clear in your eyes. "I'm going to wear it."

* * * * * *

Stepping out of the cold water, you grab your towel and dry yourself off quickly, aware of Thorin's keen gaze on you from his position in a garden chair. He had refused to bathe with you for the sheer fact that you and water combined made it difficult for him to keep control of himself. Judging by the look he was giving you now, he was definitely still struggling. "You know, you'll be subject to all kinds of gossip tonight when you wear that gown?"

You shrug and grin at him as you wrap the towel around yourself. "I am already the subject of much gossip here. And I have never once cared. And I did not think you did either."

He returns your smile as you come towards him. "I care not, dear one."

You seat yourself in his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, "I am glad. For if the gossip of elves troubles you, wait until the clans see whom you have mated yourself with."

Thorin's large fingers snake their way under the hem of your towel and your breath catches in your throat, "I find _I_ am enjoying seeing who I mated myself with far too much to worry."

Batting away the hand that was rising smoothly up the inside of your thigh, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that told you exactly what was on his mind.

Sorely tempted, you slip out of his grasp before you lost your willpower for good. "Behave yourself. I refuse to be late for dinner this time."

He grins and holds up his hands in surrender but is still unable to resist pulling you back into his arms while you were still within reach. He crushes you against his chest, his hands kneading the fullness of your hips through the fluffy material of your towel as he gazes into your eyes. " _Later_?"

You capture his lips in a sensual kiss that left him breathless and needing more, "Later, I will make you forget your own name, dwarf."

He groans deep in his throat at the promise your words contained and reluctantly releases you, "As long as I do not forget yours."

You wink at him over your shoulder as you reach the doorway to your bedroom, "You won't. I will have you screaming it. Now _go_ bathe."

You unwrap your towel from your body and throw it to him and he groans again, desperately readjusting the tightness in his pants as he rises to wash with a shake of his head and a mutter, "Definitely will be the death of me.."

You chuckle to yourself as you head inside and begin to ready yourself for dinner, eyeing the gown with dislike as you slip the soft folds of material over your head and let it fall across your body and to the floor.

Glancing at yourself in the full length looking glass, you had to grudgingly admit that Lord Elrond had taste. The gown fit you like a glove and was extremely beautiful in a way - its silver embroidery glistening around the round, open neck of the bodice, along the long, flowing silk sleeves and around the hem, accentuating the blue and white crystals painstakingly stitched into the bodice in the shape of tiny vines and flowers.

You assumed that most women would give anything to own as magnificent a gown, but you were not most women and you had never found the fascination, preferring instead the shine of bright mail and the feel of treated leather.

Seeing as Thorin seemed to love you just as you were, or more recently with as least amount of clothing as possible, you did not see the reason to make yourself feel vulnerable or be out of your comfort zone by wearing such things. Only for the sake of winning a battle without blades would you have ever considered it and you could not wait to see Lord Elrond's face now.

Brushing your hair into a loose cascade over your shoulders, you reach inside a small box on your dresser for a delicate silver circlet to place upon your head and hold back the long tresses - fixing it securely in place just as Thorin returns from his bath.

You turn to face him, "What do you think?"

His eyes roam the length of you, gazing appreciatively at the bare expanse of creamy skin around your throat and collarbone and over the rich fabric that clung to your form in all the right places. "I think you beyond beautiful as always. And your elf father certainly has taste. The gown is exquisite and I expect he'll be more than overjoyed to see you in it."

You raise a brow, not having expected him to be quite so agreeable to you looking like an elf maid. Heading into your closet for your dwarven boots, you lift your skirts and slip them on to your feet. "And what do you think now?"

Thorin snorts with mirth as he laces up his pants and reaches for his shirt, "And _now_ you have achieved goddess status in my eyes. Although, I doubt the elf will be quite as happy with your need to accessorise."

"Better." With a satisfied smirk you sit on the couch to fasten the straps around your calves as Thorin finishes getting himself ready. He rebraids his hair and slips on his coat, checking himself once in the mirror before offering you his arm, "Ready?"

You nod and return his smile, letting him lead you from the house and into the night and the certain revelry it would bring.

So used was he now to the layout of the land, that he did not need your direction even once as he found his way to the main house with ease. You walk serenely beside him, growing excited at the thought of spending a night of festivity and merry making with him, "Will you dance with me tonight, my Lord?"

He raises an amused brow as he leads you into the house of Elrond and along the hallways towards the great terrace where you were to dine. You grin at his expression and squeeze his arm, "I still regret that you did not dance with me that first night in the Blue Mountains."

"Forgive me. I was too shy to ask. But tonight I will of course dance with you, if you wish it."

He straightens himself up when the sounds of music and laughter reaches your ears, looking every bit a king as he leads you out amongst the others.

You stop and greet the members of your company, already raucous and hearty with the Miruvor that flowed freely this night, and then moved on to some of the elves that you and Thorin had spent time with over the past few days.

Promising Lendlin and his band of merry elves that you would share a drink with them later, you squeezed through the throngs of revellers in the direction of the high table.

Lord Elrond looks up from his conversation with Gandalf as you approach, and then looks again with wide eyes, almost knocking his wine goblet over in shock when he recognises you. His jaw drops and you struggle to keep a straight face as you lift your skirts to afford him a better view of your accompanying footwear.

The elf lord's rare and sudden laughter comes loud and joyous, with all gazes turning in his direction in delight - but he only had eyes for you and claps his hands together in glee. "Well played, dearest, well played."

You smile in satisfaction, the sound of his laughter almost as beautiful to you as Thorin's and you regard him fondly as you seat yourself across from him, "I am glad you found some amusement in it, Ada. Thorin was concerned you may not."

Elrond inclines his head, still grinning. "I assure you both that I shall _always_ remember this day."

You laugh softly and nod your head towards the other guest at the table - the wizard, who was also regarding you with quiet interest, "Mithrandir."

His eyes twinkle beneath bushy brows as he continues to study you, "My lady. Being home seems to suit you.. I trust you are well?"

You nod, not entirely at ease with the strange, satisfied look he was now giving you. "Very well, thank you."

Turning away from his keen, all seeing gaze, you gesture towards the empty places at the table, "Who else are we expecting?"

Lord Elrond smiles, gazing at a point over your shoulder, "See for yourself.."

Following his gaze with a confused frown, you turn to find two elves making their way through the tables towards you, so similar in appearance that to one who did not know them, they would never be told apart.

Your chair screeches against stone as you push yourself from it and launch yourself towards the pair of them, your face a picture of unrestrained happiness. "Elladan! Elrohir!"

The nearest of the two grunts as you collide with him at full force and their happy laughter was music to your ears as they embrace you as one, sandwiching you between them. Your laughter joins with theirs as you clutch both of them tightly, "I thought you were scouting the Southern Pass!?"

Elladan pulls back slightly to look at you, his exquisite features shining, "We were! But when we received word that you were returned home and would be here for midsummer, we hastened back!"

Elrohir nods his dark head in agreement, grey eyes affectionate, "You did not think we would _miss_ this chance to see you, surely?"

Speechless, you embrace them again, not realising just how much you had missed them. Elrohir rubs gently at your back, "We did not come alone, either..."

You look up at him and he gestures over his shoulder with his chin. You peer around his shoulder and gasp, eyes wide, as you meet the pale gaze of a young man who had been standing behind silently, smiling as he watched the reunion of old friends. "Estel? Can that _really_ be you?"

His grin widens, and he steps forward to embrace you too. "Well met, Sister."

You hold him tightly to you, laughing again with joy and disbelief,  "How you have grown! You were only a boy the last I saw you!"

He presses a kiss to your hair, "And you seemed much taller then. How time changes many things.."

He grins lazily as you pull back and punch him softly in jest, "Be careful...I believe I can still put you on your backside."

The brothers chuckle fondly and Elladan clears his throat, struggling with some further amusement. "Speaking of _taller_... I see you brought the dwarf..."

His twin follows his gaze to where Thorin sat at the high table, watching you with their father and the wizard. He raises a brow, almost bursting with laughter, "My, my this is delicious. So she has. However did you manage _that_ , dear sister?" He bites his lip suddenly and waves the question away, "No, do not answer. I find that I may regret wanting to know _how_ you convinced him."

All three of them burst into fits of hysterics and you fold your arms at their teasing, scowling at each in turn, "That just happens to be _my_ dwarf you are referring to. So I would suggest you behave yourselves."

Estel was the first to recover himself and he takes a deep breath, clutching his ribs as he studies your fierce expression, "You have done it now, Elrohir. We seem to be in trouble."

The brothers bring themselves quickly under control and Elrohir grasps your shoulder, "Forgive us our joke. We meant no offence."

When your scowl remains unchanged, his expression turns deceptively innocent, "Will you not introduce us? We promise to be pleasant."

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, "You had better be. He has only now gotten used to being courteous himself. _Don't_ change his mind."

You stalk up to the high table with all three in tow and everyone rises to greet the new arrivals.

"My friends, this is Tho-"

"Thorin Oakenshield." Elladan cuts you off as he steps forward and inclines his head, studying the dwarf with interest. "We have heard much of you, but we admit that we did not ever expect to meet you in the flesh. Especially _here_."

Thorin nods his own head in return, "Nor did I expect to ever _be_ here, gentlemen. But I have heard much of you likewise." He looks between the two brothers astounded. Their likeness to their father was clear in their ebony hair and kind, grey eyes but other than that it was still impossible to tell those two apart and he had never seen such a mirror image reflected in two people before.

You smile softly at his expression and stand close to him, "Do not fret, my Lord. I shall simplify it for you." You point to the brother on the left, "This one is Elrohir. The other Elladan. Thanks to their want for dressing alike, you can tell them apart only because Elrohir has a small beauty spot on the side of his nose."

Now it was the elf's turn to scowl, "It is only a freckle!"

You incline your head as Thorin grins in appreciation of your wickedness, "Of course, brother. Forgive me."

You grab the chortling youth from behind them and pull him forward, "And this is Estel. He is Dunedan also, and like myself, has been fostered here in the valley since he was only a babe."

They exchange a few short pleasantries also, and then the new arrivals turn their attention to their father and the wizard, greeting them joyfully.

Thorin remembered well when you had told him that the elf lord had taken in many Númenórean children and raised them as his own. But since being here he had not noticed a single one and had forgotten to ask you about it.

He takes the time now to study the young man Estel with interest, noting that he resembled you in many ways, most prominently in the fairness of his face and his noble bearing. He was exceedingly tall with gangly limbs that he had not yet grown in to, but despite that, Thorin perceived a great sturdiness beneath the man's quiet, reflective exterior and a strength of will to match even that of his own.

His attention is distracted as Elrond calls for dinner to be served and he looks away to find the wizard also gazing intently at the man as he seats himself on your other side, wondering momentarily what schemes and plans Gandalf would hatch for the unsuspecting lad too.

The thought flares at his annoyance with the old man for some reason and he stabs at a boiled potato with unwarranted venom, seeming almost glad when one of the sons of Elrond - he still didn't know which - asked him if he had managed to see much of the valley during his stay.

Eagerly welcoming the conversation, he nods, "Indeed I have. Excellent waterfalls."

You choke on a sip of wine, your blush resplendent as Thorin hammers you on the back to help you breathe again and continues innocently, "The vineyards were a favourite too."

You finally managing to draw air into your lungs and shake your head as you glare at him for a fleeting moment. He grins and continues to regale the brothers politely with all he had seen of their home, whilst you, unable to stand further embarrassment, quickly engage Estel by asking him of all he had been up to since you had last seen him.

Lord Elrond listens quietly to the conversations of the table and views his two favourite foster children from over the rim of his wine goblet, wondering if ever again his table would seat more destiny than it did now.

The consequences of those fates swirl through his mind and he muses how similar they would be - finding himself both proud and saddened by his foresight.

Beside him, the wizard eats watchfully, sharing this knowledge - and Lord Elrond felt that the time had now passed where he could ignore it no further.

* * * * * *

Breathless and dizzy, you come to a standstill when the music ends and grin at Balin as he finally releases you.

You felt as though you had danced with the entire population of Imladris, which wasn't far from the truth. After Thorin, you had been claimed by the sons of Elrond, who then followed after himself, as did most of the company. Estel had also danced with you before leaving you to face Lindir and then Lendlin, who despite his earlier drinking session with Thorin seemed mostly unaffected and as graceful as ever.

You'd had a moment's respite and a drink before being reclaimed by Balin for a second dance and now your legs were screaming in protest.

You move aside as the musicians enter into another lively tune and pour Balin a drink whilst looking around all the while for Thorin, who seemed to have ominously disappeared.

You were soon joined by the hobbit, who made his way towards you in relief, trying not to get trampled under the dancing feet of revellers. You hand him a drink too with a smile, "Bilbo, have you seen Thorin?"

He takes a grateful sip of wine and nods, "He's over there with Gandalf."

Balin and yourself follow his gaze over the heads of the throngs to a thick, vine entwined pillar in the shadowy far corner of the balcony. Your smile falters when you see Thorin's angry expression as he rounds on the wizard, with whom he seemed to be in the midst of a very heated discussion. You groan inwardly, wishing the old man could leave well alone, "What now?"

Gandalf looks up a moment later to find you watching them. He gestures for you to join them and you place down your goblet with a sigh, pushing your way through the crowds towards them.

Hesitating for only a moment, Balin and Bilbo follow, unsure on whether they were required too. As you reach the pillar, Gandalf stalks off without so much as a word, leaving you to question a very frustrated Thorin. "What is it, my love?"

Thorin shakes his head, seeming beyond livid as he strides after the wizard, leaving the rest of you to follow after him, perplexed.

You stride silently by his side as he heads down the hallway back to the vast library you had taken him to visit and you were surprised on entering to find Lord Elrond already awaiting you there.

Without single pause or ceremony, Gandalf rounds on the dwarf again, "Show Lord Elrond the map."

You sigh in realisation and look to Thorin, who's eyes were like ice as they glare at the wizard. He straightens himself up and sticks out his chin obstinately, "Our business is no concern of elves."

You cringe, saddened that all the effort of the past days seemed to have come undone by the old man's poor handling and understanding of the dwarf lord.

You knew that Thorin would more than likely have shown the elf the map had Lord Elrond asked it of him himself. They seemed to have built a bridge of sorts during your stay, but now Thorin would sooner destroy that bridge than bow to the will of a wizard he did not entirely trust. Especially when it came to something as precious to him as a heirloom of his race.

Gandalf sighs with increasing vexation, "For _goodness sake_ , Thorin. Show him the map."

Thorin remains indifferent, contrary to the last, "It is the legacy of my people. It is mine to protect, as are its secrets."

Balin puffs out his chest with pride and Gandalf shakes his head in temper and begins to pace, nearly stepping on the hobbit who was awkwardly watching the argument from behind him, "Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall."

When Thorin shows no signs of relenting, he continues, "You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read that map. _Show_ it to Lord Elrond!"

" _Enough_!"

All eyes turn in your direction and the wizard stops his pacing in surprise. You glance first at the old man in warning and then into Lord Elrond's calm and patient gaze. "Thorin..."

You turn to him and gaze deep into the icy depths of his eyes and they soften somewhat as he takes a deep breath to calm himself. You nod almost imperceptibly and his expression changes to one of resignation, unable to fight the will of one he trusted with his life.

He slowly reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out the thick, folded parchment. Swallowing hard he steps forward, but Balin grasps his arm, "Thorin, no."

Thorin pushes back his old advisor's restraint and takes the last step towards the elf and holds the map out for him to take.

Elrond unfolds it gently with a curious frown, his pale gaze sweeping across the etchings and then back to Thorin's face,  "Erebor. What is your interest in this map?"

Thorin opens his mouth to answer, struggling to find a satisfactory response, but it was Gandalf that saved him from answering by cutting him off with a warning look, "It is mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text?"

Thorin nods slightly in gratitude, his eyes softening as much as his feelings of betrayal as he shares a private look with the old man.

You shake your head at the both of them, knowing already that Lord Elrond knew exactly what Thorin's interest in the map was and of his intent. He had told you so on the very first night of your arrival and surely Gandalf of all people should know that he would not be able to fool the all seeing elf even for a moment.

Elrond raises a single, disbelieving brow and turns away to study the map closer in the pale light of the moon.

Gandalf carries on with his deception, oblivious as he continues to placate the elf, "You still read ancient dwarvish, do you not?"

You watch patiently in silence as Elrond studies the map more intently, "Ah, cirith ithil..."

Gandalf's face softens with realisation, " _Moon runes_?... Of course..." He smiles at the bewildered hobbit, "An easy thing to miss."

Elrond turns back to face you, also smiling, "Well in this case, that is true. But moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season in which they were written."

Thorin swallows his pride as he gazes up at him with quiet desperation, "Can you read them?"

The elf nods and motions for you all to follow him. Leading you out of the study, you climb a long, spiral stair above it an emerge on to a high precipice in the cliff that Lord Elrond used mostly as an observatory, "These runes were written on a midsummer's eve, by the light of a crescent moon nearly 200 years ago." He smiles down at the dwarf beside him and then gestures towards the sky, "It would seem you were _meant_ to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight."

You all gaze up as the moon suddenly appears from behind a thin cloud and Lord Elrond places the map on a plinth of milky quartz that seemed to fill with its silver light.

The beams illuminate the thin parchment, drawing your attention back to it as shining, silver writing becomes apparent in the bottom right corner of the map. Elrond follows the runes with a thin finger as he begins to translate,  
 _"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks. And the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole."_

Bilbo frowns from Balin's side, " _Durin's day_?"

Gandalf nods, "It is the start of the dwarves new year, when last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together."

Thorin glances to Balin, his face lined with worry, "This is ill news. Summer is passing. Durin's day will soon be upon us."

Balin thinks it through a moment, "We still have time."

Bilbo gazes from one to the other, seeming to be in a constant state of confusion, "Time? For _what_?"

Balin glances at him in exasperation before turning back to his king, "To find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened."

Elrond raises a sharp brow, "So this _is_ your purpose, to enter the mountain?"

Thorin frown up at him, "What of it?"

Elrond hands him the map back, his words laced with meaning, "There are _some_ who would not deem it wise."

Gandalf's head snaps up with suspicion, "What do you mean?"

Elrond glances back at him surreptitiously as he makes his way toward the stairs, "You are not the _only_ guardian to stand watch over middle earth."

Gandalf watches the elf disappear with a worried frown before turning back to Thorin. "I fear things may soon take a turn for the worst. Send word to your company. Tell them to gather together everything they need tomorrow and make ready to depart by dawn the following day. Time is against us."

Thorin nods as the wizard scurries off after Elrond, his dirty, grey robes flapping around his ankles as he runs. You follow after more slowly, the dwarves discussing the new information that had been gleaned from the map and hastily making plans to restart your journey.

You return to the festivities, but did not stay for long, having lost your enjoyment in it now and feeling as though it would be in your best interests to rest instead while you were able.

You slip away quietly while no one was watching, leaving Balin to round up the rest of the company and update them on all that had happened that evening.

Fingers twined, you make your way to your rooms, avoiding the many happy gatherings and parties that spread throughout the valley, preferring a more inconspicuous route instead.

Thorin squeezes your hand firmly in the darkness, "Forgive me, dear one. Believe me when I say that I take no enjoyment in tearing you away from here."

You smile softly and return the pressure on his fingers, "Do not concern yourself. I knew that our stay must soon come to an end. The company have grown restless of late."

Thorin nods as you push open your door, following you inside, "That does not make me feel any better about it."

He closes the door as you kick off your boots beside the door and cross to the mantle to light a small fire in the grate.

Undressing down to his pants, he dumps his things in your bedroom before rejoining you beside the merrily crackling flames, "I regret too, that because of the wizard, I did not get the chance to dance with you again."

You lean into his touch his touch as he runs his fingers lightly through your long hair, "Dance with me now, then?"

He smiles softly and pulls you to your feet, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You melt into him and bury your face into his neck, revolving slowly to some music only the two of you could hear.

* * * * * *

Due to your late night revelry, it was almost gone noon when you finally awoke, and squinting in the harshness of daylight, you automatically reach out for Thorin only to find his side of the bed cold and empty.

Rising, you search for him around the house and then out on the veranda, but still finding no sign of him, you wash and dress quickly - leaving the house with the intention of seeking him out.

Dashing breathless around a corner, you almost run head first into Lord Elrond, who catches you before you lose your balance, his expression caught in a look of fond chastisement. 

You grin up at him as he straightens you to stand before him, "Forgive me, Adar."

He smiles as he reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, "No harm done. To where are you headed in such haste, dear one?"

You shake your head, "I was looking for Thorin. He has disappeared again.... Have _you_ seen him?"

Surprisingly, he nods and offers you his arm, "Yes. He came to me early this morning to ask my permission to have use of the forge."

You frown in confusion and take his arm, walking back with him the way he had come, "He did? _Why_?"

Elrond shrugs, his fair face betraying nothing of his thoughts, "Perhaps he wanted to make a gift for his bride... I believe congratulations are in order?"

Your eyes widen as you look up at him with flushed cheeks, stuttering to find a reply, "How did you-"

He smiles softly and squeezes your arm, "I do not need a wizard to tell me of such things. Your bearing alone betrayed as such at the celebrations last night."

You sigh, thinking you should have known that you wouldn't be able to keep it from him for long. "Are you angry with me?"

He seems surprised by the question as he meets your eyes, "Of course not. Why ever would I be?" When you continue to stare at the floor in silence, he continues, "I told you that I had foreseen the path your affections would take long ago and that you would leave here changed."

You stop in your tracks and pull him into a standstill as you gaze at him imploringly, "I have your blessing, then?"

He raises a brow, still surprised, "Do you need it, daughter? It will make no difference now. You belong to him regardless."

"I would still have it."

He sighs and begins walking again, "Then you have it. Just as I told him the day you arrived. I wish for both of you every happiness."

"Thank you, Ada."

You walk beside him in relieved silence for a while, letting him lead you whilst you enjoy the comfort and tranquillity you knew must soon come to an end. "There is one thing I would know. Something that has been bothering me for a while now. "

"Oh?"

You look up to find him watching you with kind, curious eyes and blurt it out - tact never having been your best attribute, "Will I ever be able to give him children?"

He walks you across a wide balcony that looked out over the forge and you gaze down to see Thorin with Fili, Kili and Dwalin, locked in some sort of combative tournament with Elladan, Elrohir and Estel.

You snort with mirth as you watch them gleefully hack away at one another with much laughter, and even Elrond smiles as he studies the dwarf a moment before answering, "To my knowledge, this is the first and most probably last union of its kind - so it is hard to say for certain. Dwarves are not of the same as Elves and Men. Aulë is _their_ father."

You lean on the balustrade as you watch Thorin fight Estel, admiring the dwarf lord's fluid and almost beautiful fighting technique, "But even their father is his own father's son. Just as Elves and Men. And it was _He_ who granted all children life. Are we so different after all, then?"

Elrond ponders the question thoughtfully, "Your point is a fair one, but it is still beyond the wisest of us to know."

"Thorin believes Aulë willed our union."

"And do _you_ believe that?"

You frown thoughtfully as you look back into the elf's wise, grey eyes. "I believe it more with every passing day. Even though I do not know why, it feels right for me to be with him. It always has. And that we are compatible at all gave me hope."

Elrond smiles softly, "Then perhaps Aulë has his own plans for you and will bless you with a family."

You stand in quiet companionship for a while before the elf's hand on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, "I must go. There is a matter which will require my attention." You straighten up and turn to face him as he continues, "I feel that we shall not see each other again whilst you are here, daughter. So I bid you farewell with a heavy heart and pray that all the gods see fit to return you home some day."

The bitterness of this sudden parting stings at your eyes and constricts your throat. Abandoning decorum, you reach out and wrap your arms around his lithe frame, hugging him tightly. "I love you, Ada."

His jaw tightens painfully as he returns your embrace and presses a firm kiss to the top of your head, "And I you.... Now... Go be with him. I believe he has something for you."

He releases you reluctantly and gazes down on you, his tender eyes oddly bright, "Be strong, little one. The things to come will test you beyond anything you have ever known, and you must prevail. For the sake of us all."

You nod, too choked by sorrow to speak. He leans in and presses a last kiss to your brow before taking his leave of you and leaving you staring after him miserably as he strides along the hallway and out of sight.

Wiping your eyes on the back of your hand, you take deep breaths to calm yourself when a shout rises up from the forge below. With effort, you hitch a smile back on to your face and turn to find Thorin and the boys all waving up at you. You wave back and cross to the stairway as Thorin gestures for you to come down to him.

Fili was the first to reach you, his golden hair glinting in the sun as he embraces you swiftly and presses a kiss to each cheek. "Seven blessings, aunt."

Unable to wait for his brother to move, Kili throws his arms around both of you, grinning like an over eager child, "Seven blessings, aunt!"

Brightened, you laugh softly and wrap an arm around each of their shoulders as you lead them back towards the others, stood sweating and grinning at the exchange beside a work bench. "Thank you. But if either of you call me aunt again, I shall strangle you both in your sleep. It makes me feel so old."

Fili winks at his younger brother who chuckles wickedly, and you knew without doubt that you wouldn't be hearing the last of it. "I forgot that I would be inheriting you two. I have a feeling I am going to be finding out _exactly_ what your dear mother has had to put up with over the years."

Thorin raises an amused brow as you reach him, "They'll behave themselves or I'll leave them both here with the elves."

Elladan raises an amused brow, "Was that supposed to be an insult, dwarf?"

You roll your eyes, "I doubt it. I have a feeling that Kili at least would not view it as punishment."

You grin in satisfaction when Kili's smug expression is suddenly wiped from his face and blushing, he glances fearfully at his uncle.

You distract Thorin's questioning stance by loosening your sword. "How about we even this contest up then, gentlemen?"

Taking the side of the sons of Elrond and Estel, you point your blade at Thorin, winking at his expression of mock betrayal, "This one is _mine_."

Elladan grins as he launches into the attack against an eager Dwalin, "So we have heard."

Your laughter is drowned out by the clashing of steel on steel as the battle begins again in earnest.

You engage Thorin with delight, having never sparred with him before and studying his every movement closely to glean more insight into the way he fought.

He was superior in every sense, a born warrior who seemed one with a blade, even if that blade was elven.

Kili fell to Estel first, as did Fili a short while afterwards to Elrohir. Elladan came out triumphant in the best of three against Dwalin, but you and Thorin still battled on, locked once more in a dance of a different kind that was still kept time by the music of your bond.

The others stand aside and watch as you each struggle to best the other, with you pulling out all the tricks you had learned from both races in an effort to beat him.

You twirl around one another, joining and then separating as he counters each of your attacks with fluid grace. You both smile when your blades lock and you find yourselves pressed up against one another again. "We are going to be here all day, dear one."

You laugh easily and he smiles wider at the sound, "Submit then!"

To your surprise he nods and untangles his blade from yours, throwing the weapon down at your feet before bowing low to you. "I submit."

The gathered audience clap and cheer as you pick up his blade and hand it back to him with a frown, "You would let me win so easily?"

He smiles, sheathing the sword, "It is the tradition my father started, to lose gracefully in combat to his beloved."

You sigh fondly and take his arm when he offers it, breathless but happy. Elladan jumps down from his perch on one of the work benches to meet you, his fair face proud, "What sword play that was! Magnificent! And I see you have improved and learned some new techniques, sister!" He turns to the fierce dwarf he himself had just fought, "And I can guess by the style who it was that tutored you."

Dwalin gives a toothy grin, regarding both you and Thorin like a proud father. "Aye. She was needing a little more about her than just fancy footwork, elf."

Elladan rolls his eyes, refusing to be drawn into the dwarf's teasing. He inclines his head to Thorin, "We thank you for the exercise, as little as it was, but now we must take our leave."

"You are going!?"

He nods and reaches out to touch your cheek, "Yes. We only came for the festivities, but now we must return to our post. We ride out at nightfall and must prepare."

Shaking hands with the others and then Thorin, he gazes down with sadness upon the dwarf king, "We know to where you are headed. But beware. The journey to Erebor alone is fraught with danger, and new perils now wander the wilderness that did not dare before."

Estel steps forward, his face a mask of shocked surprise. "You march on the Mountain with little over a dozen!?" When Thorin hesitantly nods his affirmation, the young ranger shakes his head perplexed, "But what hope can you have of victory with so few?"

Thorin grasps his shoulder and gazes up into the man's intelligent, grey eyes. " _There is always hope_."

Saying their last farewells and wishing you all success and good fortune, they embrace you tightly with much affection before the sons of Elrond and Estel finally take their leave.

You watch them walk away forlornly as Thorin turns to Fili, "Go and prepare the others. Make sure they are ready to leave and have whatever supplies they can carry."

Fili nods, "What about the ponies?"

Thorin shakes his head, "They will have to stay. We can not take them across the mountain path."

Fili grabs his brother's arm and departs to do as he was asked, leaving Dwalin to wink at you as he passes, "Nice sword play."   
You grin at him as he passes you and follows after the boys, leaving you to be alone with Thorin once more.

Once they had disappeared, Thorin leans in to press a longing kiss to your lips, "Good afternoon, dear one."

You hum appreciatively and return his kiss, "Hello to you too."

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer as you lose yourself in his eyes, "I hate waking without you, you know."

"Forgive me, my love. I had something I needed to do before we left and I wanted you to get as much rest as possible. We have a hard road ahead."

You gesture towards the work bench, "What have you been doing then, may I ask - except for crossing swords with elves? I spoke with Lord Elrond who told me that you had been to see him early this morning and asked his permission to come here?"

He nods and releases you, grabbing his jacket from the bench and reaching into an inside pocket. "I did, yes."

"You know he knows about us? He offered me his congratulations and wished us every happiness."

Thorin snorts as he withdraws a small, black velvet pouch and tosses the jacket aside, "Of course he knows.  He knew even _before_ I asked his consent to make this for you."

He offers it out to you, seeming suddenly quite nervous and you take the tiny bag from him with a curious frown. Opening the drawstring, you upend the pouch into your open palm and smile in realisation when a small, silver item falls into your hand.

Despite its delicate crafting, the tiny ring was still surprisingly light in your hand and you pick it up to study it in the sunlight, guessing what it was you held without much difficulty.

The silver metal shone like polished glass, as bright and fair as the dwarven patterning that Thorin had formed it in. Two small flowers baring resemblance to that of his crest had been worked painstakingly into the centre of the elegant dual band, their outer petals intertwined. In the midst of these sat two tiny diamonds, each as rare as the metal in which they resided. One blue for him and one black for you.

You swallow hard past the lump in your throat as you look up at him, "Thorin... I do not know what to say ... This is beyond beautiful."

His eyes soften with relief and he breathes freely again, "You like it?"

Speechless, you nod and reach out for him, pulling him tight against your body. You bury your face into his raven hair as he envelops you in his strong embrace. "Could you not have picked a rarer metal or stone?"

He laughs softly at your teasing and rubs your back with a gentle hand. "Our love is rarer still. It only seemed fitting that this ring should reflect that. And mithril is the only metal fitting for the ring of a Lady, my love. Anything less would have been an insult."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, "It is also this metal that joins our races. Besides Moria, the only other deposit outside the god's realm was Númenor, I believe? And now it has been crafted by a dwarf in an elven forge with elven tools. Very fitting indeed for one such as you."

You laugh in agreement and reach up to caress his warm cheek, overwhelmed by the thought he had put into it. "How lucky I am to have you."

He colours slightly beneath his tender smile, "Let us not be too hasty. It may not fit. I have been out of practice with my crafting for many years and I had to keep in mind that your fingers are so much smaller than ours." He takes the ring and your left hand into his own. "May I?"

Heart pounding, you nod your assent and watch as he slips the band into place with the satisfaction in both the act and the fact that he had judged just right. It fit you perfectly.

He smiles and grasps your hand tightly in his own as his eyes return to yours, sincere, "I love you, Askâd. I always will."

Your lips suddenly find his and you pour every single bit of adoration you felt for him into their touch, arms wrapping tight around his neck as he lifts you into his arms to bring you even closer.

Laughing deep within his throat, he squeezes you tight when you eagerly wrap your legs around him too, "Dear one, as accommodating as your elves may be, I still think they would take insult to us ... _professing our love_ .. in their forge."

You grin and cling to him all the tighter, "But I can't help it. Look at you.... How can they expect me to ever resist you?"

He snorts and rolls his eyes, "Very easily, I'd imagine." He lowers you back to your feet and grabs his coat again, "Now, how about you forage some food for your charming, handsome, intelligent, master smith of a king before he starves to death?"

Giggling softly, you take his hand and pull him impatiently towards the stairs, "Your modesty is inspiring, my lord. _Come on_..."

Leading him straight to the kitchens, you beg a very late lunch of the elves there and take it down beside the river to eat, wanting to enjoy your last few hours in Rivendell surrounded by the peaceful beauty of the valley.

You while away the hours together, paddling in the crystal waters or lazing on the banks in the sun, admiring your ring as you talked of the upcoming journey and the roads you would take.

Not until the sun hung low and red in the sky did you rise to depart, and upon reaching the main house, you separate - with you returning to your quarters to gather yours and Thorin's things together and pack them - and him heading off to check on the rest of the company to make sure they would be ready to leave at daybreak.

He finds them in the guest rooms, bags already packed with supplies they had managed to procure in stealth from Rivendell's kitchens, and despite their enjoyment in their stay in the valley, all seemed restless and eager to be back on the road.

Whilst a few of them made last minute adjustments and repairs to their equipment he told them of the plan that he had discussed with you and of the road they were to take before informing them he would rouse them before dawn.

Once everything was settled between them, the dwarves head out on to the now darkening balcony to cook a final meal before bed, and Thorin takes leave of his men to return to you.

He climbs the stairs from the main house wearily, not noticing at first the hobbit stood on the landing and gazing out into the night with apparent intrigue.

Thorin steps up behind him with silent feet and opens his mouth to speak, but is cut short by the unmistakable voice of the wizard.

Peering over the halfling's shoulder, he spots the old man striding along a lantern lit pathway, deep in discussion with the master of the valley beside him, their voices carrying loudly through the still, night air. "Well, of course I was going to tell you. I was waiting for this very chance! And...and really, I think you can trust that I know what I am doing!"

The elf's voice comes hard with scepticism, " _Do you_? That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail - if you should wake that beast?"

"But if we should _succeed_? If the dwarves take the mountain, our defences in the east will be strengthened."

"It is a dangerous move, Gandalf."

The wizard's tone drips with his frustration, "It is also dangerous to do _nothing!_ "

Losing interest, Bilbo turns away and comes face to face with Thorin stood behind him and also listening intently. Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment and feeling awkward at being caught eavesdropping by the dwarf king, he looks back nervously towards the wizard and elf below as they walk ever closer.

"The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it that you fear?"

Elrond pauses, rounding on the old man. "Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs in _that_ family."

Despite himself, Thorin moves closer against his will, feeling the bile rise up into the back of his throat.

"His grandfather lost his mind - his father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?"

Thorin turns away, feeling as though he might vomit. The icy claws of dread reach into his chest to grasp at his heart, leaving unable to move or do anything other than listen to his greatest fears being voiced so indifferently by another.

"That is why I needed the girl to go with him. He stands a much better chance of withstanding this evil if she remains at his side."

Lord Elrond frowns with distaste and Thorin looks back up with worry as they continue on their way, "I wonder what other roles you have planned for my daughter in all of this."

"She _loves_ him. And he her! She brings him hope and strength, and he listens to no one but her. I know you have looked into their future - that you have foreseen what may become of their union."

"That is by no means certain, Gandalf. And these decisions do not rest with us alone. It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle Earth."

The wizard leans heavily on his staff, breathless as they ascend yet another stairway. "With or without our help, these dwarves will now march upon the Mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. And I do not believe that Thorin Oakenshield feels he is answerable to _anyone._.. Nor for _that_ matter, am I."

They reach the top of the steps and disappear from view as they enter a circular tower, their voices fading along with them.

Thorin remains rooted to the spot, his mind a whirling mess of emotion that threatened to incapacitate him. Bilbo turns and sees the tormented look on the dwarf's face and reaches out tentatively to grasp his arm, "Thorin.."

Thorin startles at the contact and suddenly finds the control of his limbs given back to him. Without a single word he turns on his heel and leaves the perplexed hobbit staring after him as he hastens to the only person he knew who could comfort him now.

He shouts to you as soon as he bursts breathless through the door and follows your answering call out on to the veranda to find you sitting on the balustrade in only your night gown - gazing out into the valley as you waited for him to return. You look up as he approaches, your smile faltering when you see his expression. "Thorin? What is it?" 

He presses himself into your arms without pause and buries his face into the long, silky waves of your hair, leaving you feeling both confused and worried by his behaviour. You wrap your arms tight around his shoulders and cradle his head comfortingly to your throat, "Talk to me, my love. What has happened?"

He clings to you all the tighter, as though you'd vanish if he loosened his hold, and without once removing his face from the soft skin of your neck, he recounts the conversation that he and the hobbit had accidentally overheard.

You listen intently, your fingers running soothingly through the raven strands of his hair as you look to comfort him, and once he had finished speaking, you finally lean back and turn his head to face you.

The fear and uncertainty in his eyes breaks your heart and you grieve for it, "It seems even a king and his queen can still become pawns in the game of a wizard."

Taking his large hand in yours, you draw it to your lips and kiss it tenderly, "Do not let yourself be upset over much by his schemes, my love. He may be looking to suit his own purpose, but he is also aiding ours."

Thorin shakes his regal head, worried eyes downcast, "I do not _care_ for the schemes and plans of the wizard. They are of no concern or importance to me and he will soon find that Durin's folk do not bow so easily to the will of others."

You frown and frame his cheek with slender fingers, "What then?"

He leans into your touch with a sigh, "I worry that he is right. My grandfather and father both succumbed to sickness. Long have I feared the same fate if ever I should again see the vast wealth of Erebor."

Running your thumb along his bristled jaw, you shake your head adamantly, "You are neither your father nor your grandfather, Thorin. You are once again worrying over things that may never come to pass."

His eyes move between both of yours, searching for something there to hold on to, "I feel it though, Askâd. I feel it deep inside of me. The dark weaknesses in the recesses of my mind - the potential for madness, just waiting and biding its time until it can come forth and overwhelm me. I have bound you to that and it scares the life out of me. You deserve so much more."

You make a small sound of disagreement, "Listen to me. I would still have bound myself to you regardless, because I love you." You release his hand to bring the second up to frame his face too, preventing him from looking away. "The night of our first coupling, I saw into your very soul, Thorin. I saw the darkness that dwelt there and everything you are capable of.... And I am not afraid of it. For I too saw the love in you, and I truly believe that it is strong enough to overcome any obstacle in its path. I believe you will always find your way back to me, no matter how far into darkness you fall."

His eyes fill with tears and you tighten your hold on his face, your voice breaking at the sight, "You can not say if it will ever come to pass, but if it is indeed your fate to fall, then know that I will be with you. I will stand by you and I will fight for you with all I have. I could never give up on you, or us. Because I know that you would fight for me too."

He leans his brow against yours and takes a ragged breath, "I would fight for you with my dying breath."

You wipe a stray tear from his cheek and rub your nose gently with his, "Then promise me you'll never leave me, Thorin Oakenshield. Swear it."

He shares your warmth, sweet against his skin and loses himself in your comfort and protection, "I swear it, Askâd."

Satisfied, you rise to your feet and take his hand firmly in your own, "Come, my love. "

Leading him away from the night and back into the bedroom, he makes no protest when you begin to carefully undress him, stripping him of the many layers of mail, leather and soft velvet until you had rid him of all of it, leaving him completely naked and vulnerable.

Fingers gently grasping his broad shoulders, you ease him down on to the bed and lower yourself over him until you had straddled his hips. You press a tender kiss to his lips, your voice soft and calming,"Let me make love to you?"

He takes a deep breath and nods his assent - fingers twisting into the fabric of the chemise that pooled about your hips as you straighten back up and gaze at him with intent, "I have never cared much for this nightdress."

Guessing your meaning, his grip tightens on the thin material and he pulls hard, tearing it away from your body with ease in a single rip. You let the shredded remains fall from your shoulders and he tosses them over the side of the bed before returning his hands to your waist.

You begin to move against him slowly, encouraging him to harden beneath you, and he lays unmoving in the pile of soft blankets as you work, his eyes roaming freely over your body to distract himself away from his thoughts.

You had never once taken control before, preferring to leave it to him - and the sight of you now on top of him, dominating him like this, soon sends hot flames of desire burning their way through his blood.

His fingers dig in to the flesh of your sides as you begin to move harder against him, working your hips to tease at the length of his manhood now stiffening rapidly against hot flesh and becoming slick and wet with your mutual need.

You gaze down at him beneath you, solid and muscular, his raven hair spread around him like a black halo. He was a wild stallion between your thighs, noble and majestic and begging to be bent to your will. A tremble runs the length of your spine at the thought and you moan - back arching in readiness for him.

He writhes now beneath you, his insatiable need to be encased in the solace inside of you becoming almost as painful as the throbbing of his arousal. He removes his hand from your waist and lets it slide up the length of your body and between your breasts. Pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his breath hitches when you grind down on him even harder in pleasure,  "Askâd... _Please_..."

You smile with the satisfaction of hearing him beg and rise a little on to your knees. Reaching down between your legs, you take hold of his swollen erection and stroke at it teasingly as you let him rub against you. He groans deep within his throat with the frustration of it and you finally take pity on him - carefully positioning him to enter you before sinking yourself down on all his glorious length.

He moans again, bucking his hips to meet you and sheath himself deep inside the heat of your body.

You take him to the hilt and settle on his thighs to savour the exquisite feeling of him filling you completely - a feeling you knew you would never tire of - and lock your eyes with his, wanting to see everything he felt right there in his darkened gaze.

Reaching out with both arms, you grasp at the soft nets that hung from your bedposts and smooth them through your hands, gathering them to twist around your arms and wrists until they suspended you over him and supported all your upper body weight.

His eyes widen and he nearly loses himself right away to see you looking so wild and wanton as you bind yourself over him with the floaty fabric of the curtains.

You bite your lip seductively and he licks his own in response, his mouth suddenly very dry as you begin to move on him again. "Touch me, Thorin..."

He hastens to do as you ask, running his hands over your thighs and stomach and grasping your hips to pull himself into you as you begin to build up a steady pace, impaling yourself repeatedly on his entire length and taking as much of him as you could deep inside.

He could do nothing but writhe helplessly beneath you, gasping and moaning, his hips desperately working to meet you every time you sank down on him and unable to look away from your eyes as he fell apart beneath you.

Usually your intimacy was tender and sweet, always careful and full of love. But there was none of that present this time. This time love was firmly balanced with the quiet fury of lust, and it was anything but gentle. This time you rode him furiously as though it would be the last sexual experience you would ever have and Thorin couldn't control his need. You grind your hips frantically and all too soon his pleasure begins to pool at the base of his spine, not even giving him time to cry out a warning as he plunges deep inside of you and releases himself.

His back arches beneath you, his whole body in the grip of the convulsions and trembles that racked throughout his limbs, but still you did not stop.

You slammed yourself down on him without mercy, riding him throughout his climax whilst watching every reaction he had to all the sensations you were inspiring in him.

His seed begins to leak down your inner thighs, but you pay no attention to it, your grip tightening on the material of your bonds as you slow the pace again to urge his softening erection back to full hardness.

Patiently tending to him, you hold yourself back and move against him in a circular motion until you feel him begin to grow again inside you. Once he was fully recovered, you let yourself go and lean back and close your eyes, firmly intending to use him for your own pleasure now. You rock against his hips forcefully, searching for that one spot inside of you that would ignite the glowing embers spreading from your lower stomach and send them sparking up your spine like dragon fire.

His shaking hands grip just beneath your breasts as he tries to help you move, and shifting his hips slightly he angles himself to go deeper, making you cry his name loudly with ecstasy when he finds it within seconds.

The sweat runs freely down your soft skin to mingle with that of his stomach and your broken, ragged pants of exertion come in tandem to complement the deep moans of desire and the smell of sex.

He thrusts himself into you with everything he has until your need for release becomes almost exquisitely painful. The sparks ignite all at once to send the most powerful wave of lightning you had ever felt running through your body, consuming your living flesh with its every touch.

Your every thought scatters to the wind and your body stiffens, pulling you hard at your constraints. You let them take your weight as you give yourself over to your own gratification.

Thorin continues to push himself inside you erratically until he feels your climax take hold. Your body clenches and convulses around him, squeezing him tight from every angle and the feeling of it sends him over the edge for a second time. He loses himself inside you and joins you in your pleasure, letting the powerful flow of energy that ran from one to the other flow unchecked.

Needing to be closer as he rides his moment of ecstasy, he leans up to hold you to him, pressing his face into the hollow of your throat as he trembles and gasps. You groan softly and continue to move your hips slowly as you explore all the sensations of your bond and press a firm kiss into his sweat dampened hair while waiting to regain full use of your limbs.

Opening your eyes at last, you untangle your arms from the net drapes and let them fall away to wrap around his shoulders instead, feeling suddenly very protective of him. Easing him back in your embrace until he was pressed into the soft pillows, you lower yourself down against his chest - the heat of your flesh meeting his, slick with a sheen of sweat. He envelops you once more in his strong embrace as you both continue to struggle for breath. "I do not know what that was .... but if I could choose a death. .. that would be it."

You smile and hum in agreement as you listen to his heart pound furiously beneath your ear. Drawing a starving breath, he leans forward to press a soft kiss to your brow and you cling to him all the tighter, "Stay inside of me tonight? Please?"

His eyes soften with the tenderness of the request and he nods, "Of course."

Rolling you gently on to your sides, he hooks your thigh over his hip to keep you in place, making sure to stay buried deep as he folds you back into his arms and rocks you gently.

You twine your fingers into one of his braids and settle against him, resting your brow against his, "I am really going to miss being like this."

He smiles sadly and rubs his nose against yours, "As will I. The memory of the past few days will have to sustain us for a little while."

You nod, committing his features to memory, wanting to remember exactly how he looked in this moment so you could comfort yourself with it in the long, lonely nights you knew were to come. He gazes back at you steadily, seeming to understand your thoughts all too clearly, "You know that I will be thinking of you too."

"I know." You press a loving kiss to the corner of his mouth in appreciation of his words, "Sing me to sleep?"

He laughs fondly and pulls you even closer as he begins to sing softly into your hair.

The rich baritone of his voice soothes you and steadies your heartbeat as you allow yourself to relax in the safety of his arms. Eyes heavy, you drift off long before he had finished his song.

* * * * * *

It only seemed like you had just fallen asleep when he rouses you with a gentle shake of your shoulder. You open your eyes and peer at him blearily through the darkness, subconsciously becoming aware that he was still joined with you as he shifts in your arms to press a swift kiss to your lips. "Time to go, sweetheart."

You groan in protest and sink further into your blankets and he shakes his head, laughing softly, " _Come on_..."

Throwing back the sheets, he untangles himself from you and reluctantly withdraws what was left of himself from inside you, furthering your protests when you feel his warmth suddenly disappear.

His fond amusement heightening, he gently slaps the smooth rise of your bare backside and drags himself out of bed with a huge yawn.

You eye his broad back irritably as he stands and stretches himself, "I really regret loving you so much right now."

He snorts and glances at you from the corner of his eye as he searches for his towel. "No you don't. Besides... too late now. You're stuck with me. And I can outdo you with my own ill temper any day of the week."

You grin as you rouse yourself and rub at your eyes, "True. But you have to admit that I am the only one who can beat you with stubbornness."

"Something you are very proud of, I'm sure. Out-stubborning a dwarf." You nod earnestly and he laughs, "If you hurry up and get out of bed, I'll bathe you."

"Not fair!" He shrugs as he opens the doors on to the dark veranda, knowing he had you beat even before you scurry to get out of bed and grab your towel.

You soon join him outside where you quickly washed together in the falls, the frigid waters waking you better than even he could ever have hoped to.

Feeling fresher and much more cooperative than before you dash inside out of the cool, early morning air and dig out some clothes from your closet.

Pulling on some soft, skin tight black leggings and a thin black shirt, you reach back into your wardrobe to unhook a long coat of raven velvet and slip that on too, deft fingers quickly closing the silver fastenings that ran from your throat to your navel.

Smoothing the flowing material down over your hips, you stride past Thorin as he laces his pants and head into the living room for the rest of your attire.

"Askâd? Have you seen my -"

Thorin stops short in the doorway a small while later, his words dying as quickly as his relatively good mood.

You turn to face him questioningly, adjusting the last strap of your armour to tighten the breast plate, "Have I seen your _wh a_ _t_ , my love?"

He plasters a small smile on to his face, "Socks."

"I threw most of them. The ones that were not completely falling apart I darned and put into your bag with some new ones."

He swallows hard and nods, returning to the bedroom to search out his bag, his heart breaking in his chest.

It had been so easy to forget everything these past few days whilst staying here in safety and peace. So easy to forget all those past fears and the dangers he was sure were to come in his happiness. But the sight of you armoured for battle brought them all rushing back to him and they were suddenly very real to him once more, as he now knew they were to you.

The most dangerous part of your journey lay ahead and you had not forgotten it as he had. You were preparing yourself for it as best you could and it hurt him to the core. He would once again be leading the most precious thing in his world into needless peril and there was nothing he could do at all to stop it.

Opening his bag, his heart tears a little further when, confronted by your care of him, he sees all his clothes and blankets freshly washed and darned - probably done at some point when he had slept through until midday - and neatly folded into his travel sack along with his other personal items.

He grabs a pair of the soft, new socks that you had acquired for him from the top and sits on the edge of the bed to slip them on, giving himself more time to clear his thoughts.

"Are you ready?"

He looks up from strapping his boots as you enter, dressed head to toe in midnight black, with full armour and the cloak that matched it trailing behind you. Your weapons now hung from a thick, ornate belt at your waist, and your newly strung bow rested over your shoulder with its quiver.

The long waves of your hair you wore loose, except for the small braids that crowned your head to hold the tresses back and which were joined by the silver bead he had given you in Bree.

Thorin thought he had never seen you look so much like a queen as you did then and he gestures towards your boots with a wry smile, "I never thought to see dwarven boots worn with elven armour."

You laugh softly and lift a foot to admire them. "I am Dunedan. It seems fitting to represent all the races I am bound to by more than duty. The cloak is of Númenórean design."

"Then it is indeed fitting. And you wear it all very well."

With a smile you cross over to the bed and stand before him, reaching out to brush back the silver strands of his hair, "Are you alright?"

He nods and reaches out for his fur collared mantle, "I am just sorry to have to tear you away from the comfort of home and make you leave it all behind."

Your eyes soften, "It was my choice, Thorin. And it was an easy one to make. I do it with a glad heart because my true home is in you."

He presses his face into your plated midriff with a sigh and you reach your arms around his shoulders to comfort him. "Besides, I hear that Erebor was the fairest kingdom in Middle Earth and I am eager to see it restored to its rightful splendour."

He smiles softly and gives you a heartfelt squeeze before rising to his feet and throwing his mantle over his shoulders, "You always know the right things to say."

You grab the bags as he belts Orcrist to his back and retrieves his axe from the corner, "I'll remind you of that the next time you are angry with me. Now come... dawn fast approaches and the others will be waiting."

Taking one last look around to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything, you steel yourself and shutter out the lanterns, plunging your small home into darkness. Closing the door firmly behind you for what could be the last time, you urge him silently through the shadows, keeping a sharp eye out for any keen eyed elves that happened to be early about.

The sky turns from grey to pale gold as you finally reach the guest wing of the main house and find the others all ready and waiting for you. Shouldering their bags, you urge them to remain as quiet as possible and to follow you as you lead them stealthily by the quickest guardless route along the halls and to the courtyard.

You breathe a huge sigh of surprised relief when your youthful years spent sneaking around Rivendell pay off and you make it to the winding path out of the valley unhindered and undetected.

Thorin grins at you as you begin to climb in the first rays of sunlight, "Askâd indeed."

You wink at him and hitch your bag on to your shoulder, saving your breath instead for the steep ascent.

The climb was long and the sun had fully risen by the time you emerged breathless at the precipice of the gorge. Leading the way, Thorin glances back over his shoulder, "Stay on your guard. We're about to step over the edge of the wilds."

He grasps your arm to hold you back as he pauses atop the high ledge to allow the others to pass him by. Turning to the white haired dwarf now leading the column, he gestures for them to go on. "Balin? Lead on. You know these paths."

Balin nods and urges the others to follow, leaving yourself and Thorin to gaze one last time upon the beauty of Rivendell nestled in the tranquil ravine far below - its fair, white houses gleaming in the morning sunshine.

Thorin leans on the haft of his axe, surprised to find a small part of him was sorry to leave and amazed once again that he could ever have formed any fond memories of a stay in the heart of elvendom. He glances to you, standing by his side with watery vision as you look a last time on your childhood home, and knew without doubt that he would be taking all those fond memories with him, for each only existed because of you.

He shifts to turn away, unable to bear the sadness he knew you felt, but pauses when he notices the hobbit, last in the column, stop and look back too, his expression one of sorrow and longing. "Master Baggins! I suggest you keep up!"

Bilbo nods and reluctantly turns away from the sight, following Thorin as the dwarf king resolutely puts his back to the view and strides after his men.

You linger for a few seconds more, committing to memory the beauty of your youth and fearing that you may never see it again.

Steeling yourself, you smile sadly and turn away, leaving your past behind and following your future to whatever end he would bring you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zayûgân - Destined/Divine Love


End file.
